“INNOCENT” 


PS 3503 
. R63 15 
1914 

-opy 1 


a plag In a prologue, Jfout acts anO an 
Epilogue 

r 


BY 

GEORGE BROADHURST 

Adapted from the Hungarian of Arpard Pasztor 


Copyright, 1914, by George Broadhurst 


r* 

New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38th Street 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd 
26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 
















I 





SEP 14 1314 
























/'Ku ^ w / > • 



“ INNOCENT .’ 5 


CHARACTERS 


Denes Sigary. 
Horace Irving. 
Oskar Von Guggen. 
Peter McCormick. 
His Excellency. 
Sokop. 

Istvan Kapos. 

Bela Betessey. 

A Porter. 

Tan-Lo. 

Sin-Tschu. 

1st Waiter. 

2nd Waiter. 

Szidi Sokop. 

A Maid. 


and 

INNOCENT, 


/ 



3 



“INNOCENT.” 


TIME AND PLACE. 
PROLOGUE. 


The present. 

A corridor in a hotel in Mukden, Manchuria. 

Act I. Two years previous to the Prologue. In 
this instance the action of the play goes backward, 
not forward. A room in the home of Peter McCor¬ 
mick, Mukden. 

Act II. Some months later than Act L A room in 
the home of Denes, Budapest. 

Act III. Some months later than Act. II. The 
same room. 

Act IV. Some months later than Act III. A 
private dining room in a restaurant in Nice. 

t 

EPILOGUE. 

The present; immediately following the Prologue. 
The same scene as the Prologue. 

NOTE: There will be no wait between the Prologue 
and the First Act nor between the Last Act and 
the Epilogue. 


©CI.D 38113 




“ INNOCENT.” 


PROLOGUE. 

The scene is the corridor of a hotel in Mukden, Man- 
churia. 

The time is about three years ago. 

It is evening and the electric lights, with blue 
globes about them, are burning. 

On the wall is a telephone. 

When the curtain rises two Chinese servants, Sin- 
Tschu and Tan-Lo, are discovered playing a 
game of dice. Sin-Tschu is shaking three dice 
in a black leather box. He throws. 

Tan-Lo. How many? 

Sin-T. (Counting dice ) Twice four—once two! 

Ten. 

Tan-Lo. (Counting after Sin-T.) Twice four— 
once two!—Ten! Not velly hard to count. (Tan-Lo 
throws) One five—once four—one three! Twelve. 
I win. (Sin-Tschu counts after Tan-Lo, who holds 
out his hand and Sin-Tschu pays him a copper coin) 
One more time? 

Sin-T. One! If I lose him—have no more. 

(Tan-Lo hands box to Sin-Tschlt.) 

5 



6 


INNOCENT. 


Tan-Lo. Throw! 

(Sin-Tschu throws .) 

Sin-T. ( Counting dice ) Once six—once four— 
once five! Fifteen! Velly good! velly good! 

(Tan-Lo counts dice after Sin-Tschu.) 

Tan-Lo. That right. (Tan-Lo shakes dice') 

Sin-T. This time for me! This time for me! 

Tan-Lo. Wait. {He continues to shake the dice ) 
Me velly lucky—and what is to happen—will happen 
—everything! {He throws the dice ) Twice five— 
once six! Sixteen! I win ! 

(Sin-Tschu counts the dice after Tan-Lo and in 
pantomime shows his anger at being beaten. 
Tan-Lo holds out his hand for the money, which 
Sin-Tschu reluctantly pays him.) 

Sin-T. You velly lucky! Me not lucky. 

Tan-Lo. It is as you are born. 

Sin-T. Let us play again. 

Tan-Lo. For what? 

Sin-T. For the next tip. 

Tan-Lo. No matter how much? 

Sin-T. No matter. 

Tan-Lo. No. If from a German—yes — if from 
English—yes—if from American—half. 

Sin-T. Everything or not at all. 

Tan-Lo. I lucky! I win! You know him- 

Sin-T. Just same—I play all or nothing. 

Tan-Lo. Velly well. The first tip—all —no mat¬ 
ter how much. 

Sin-T. Yes. (Sin-Tschu shakes the dice and is 
just about to throw when the hotel bell rings out¬ 
side. Sin-Tschu puts down the box) 

Tan-Lo. A guest — he come. 



INNOCENT. 


7 


(The hotel Porter enters, followed by Denes. The 
Porter carries a man’s small hand bag. Denes 
is not shaved and his clothes, though of good 
cut and quality, are the worse for wear. The 
Porter is English and speaks with a slight 
Cockney accent .) 

Porter. You can have room five, sir, or room 
three, sir. 

Denes. Did you say—five? 

Porter. Yes, sir. 

Denes. Ha! I’ll take that. 

Porter. I think that perhaps three would be a 
little more comfortable, sir. 

Denes. Just the same, I’ll take—five. 

Porter. Yes, sir—very good, sir! And your 
other luggage, sir? 

Denes. {Pointing to bag ) That’s all. 

Porter. I’m sorry, sir, but under the circum¬ 
stances, I know you’ll be asked to pay in advance, sir. 

Denes. What’s the price of—five? 

Porter. With board, sir, twenty-eight dollars, 
Mexican, by the week, sir. (Denes takes the money 
from his pocket-book and hands it to the Porter) 
Thank you, sir. (Denes gives the Porter a tip) 
Thank you again, sir! I’ll get you a receipt for this, 
sir. {He indicates the money given him by Denes 
for his board and gives the bag to Sin-Tschu, who 
takes it to room five) You know, sir, that the rules 
are not mine, sir. If they were- 

Denes. I understand. 

Porter. Yes, sir. 

(Sin-Tschu re-enters.) 

Denes. Is Mr. Horace Irving still in Mukden? 

Porter. Yes, sir. He’s in the Chinese service 
and lives quite near here. 

Denes. Thanks. (Denes exits to room five) 



8 


INNOCENT. 


Porter. A queer fish, but he paid up all right? 
A good tip, too. You never can tell. (Porter 
exits) 

(The two servants squat again and get ready to 
play.) 

Sin-T. No tip for us. 

Tan-Lo. There will be. I know him. He Mister 
Sigray. Great fliend Mr. McClormick, where I work 
before I turn Chlistian. 

Sin-T. He not know you. 

Tan-Lo. He will. You see. ( He hands box to 
Sin-Tschu) Play. 

(Denes appears at the door of his room and 
watches.) 

Sin-T. Not one time—best two times—out of 
three times. 

Tan-Lo. Why—if you are going to lose? 

Sin-T. It make it longer—that is what I like! 
Tan-Lo. Velly well. 

(Sin-Tschu shakes the dice. There is a pause.) 

Denes. What are you playing for? 

(Sin-Tschu stops shaking the dice.) 

Sin-T. For next tip. 

Denes. The next tip? 

Sin-T. Yes. He win everything—so we play for 
that. 

Denes. Good! I like your spirit. 

Tan-Lo. How do, Mr. Sigray! 

Denes. How do you know me} 

Tan-Lo. Me Tan-Lo—work Mr. McClormick! 
Also see you some time Sunday School. “ Love your 


INNOCENT. 


9 


neighbor”—“There is but one God!” You know 
me—T an-Lo ? 

Denes. Yes, I remember now! But after Mr. 
McCormick died and—Innocent came to live with 
me—I thought you turned Christian and went to the 
Mission. 

T an-Lo. Yes, me turn Chlistian. Look—pigtail 
gone. ( He takes off his cap and shows that he has 
no pigtail ) After while mission no good—no give 
money and plesents—so come here with Sin-Tschu. 

Denes. Tell me—in what God do you believe 
now ? 

Tan-Lo. On Saints days in Chlistian God! On 
week days—in the old ones. Two Gods better than 
one—take more care of you. That’s reason I win 
always from Sin-Tschu. {To Sin-Tschu) Play. 

Denes. Just a minute! As I understand it, you 
are playing for the next tip. 

Tan-Lo. Yes. 

Sin-T. That is it. 

Denes. Good! Play for that! {He throws 
down his pocket-hook. There is a pause ) Play for 
it. 

(Tan-Lo and Sin-Tschu make a rush for the 
pocket-book. Tan-Lo secures it and opens it. 
When he sees the money he is astounded. He 
shows it to Sin-Tschu.) 

Tan-Lo. Look! 

Sin-T. {To Denes) You mean? 

Denes. Yes. Go on. 

Tan-Lo. No. It is too much! Plenty both of 
us—we will divide. 

Denes. {To Sin-Tschu) What do you say? 

Sin-T. I play. 

Tan-Lo. But it is enough for both—and you 
will lose. 

Sin-T. Still—I play. 


10 


INNOCENT. 


Denes. Good for you! And yet, why not! After 
all everything’s a gamble—business, happiness, love, 
life, everything—and some are born to win and others 
—to lose—and what is to be—will be. 

Sin-T. Come. ( He shakes the dice) 

Tan-Lo. Listen, Sin-Tschu! If we play I shall 
win—still it is enough—and I will divide. (Pause) 
Well? 

Sin-T. I play. 


(Denes laughs.) 

Denes. There’s the gambler for you! And I 
hope you’ll win —though I know you won’t. 

Tan-Lo. It is settled. Two out of three? 

Sin-T. Yes! 

Tan-Lo. Then play. 

(Sin-Tschu shakes and throws. Denes stands 
watching.) 

Sin-T. (Counting) Twice three—once four! 
Ten! 


(Tan-Lo shakes and throws.) 

Tan-Lo. Once five—once six—once four—fifteen! 
I win. 


(Sin-Tschu throws again.) 

Sin-T. Once one, once five, once three! Nine! 
Tan-Lo. Now it is mine! Watch— (Tan-Lo 
throws) Twice two—once four! Eight! 

(Sin-Tschu laughs. Denes exits to room.) 

Sin-T. Not yet yours! Not yet! (Sin-T. utters 
a silent prayer, then shakes and throws. Counting) 
Twice five—once four—Fourteen! Good! Good! 


INNOCENT. 


11 


(Tan-Lo takes box and shakes the dice, but before 
he throws a shot is heard. They stop quickly 
and remain quiet. There is a pause. Tan-Lo 
picks up dice and hides pocket-book. There is a 
pause. The Porter rushes on.) 

I 

Porter. What is it? What’s the matter? 
Tan-Lo. ( Pointing ) There. 

(The Porter enters room five. There is a pause. 
The Porter re-enters. In his hand he has a 
piece of note paper with writing on it.) 

Porter. He’s dead! And this was in his hand. 
(He reads) “ Send for Mr. Horace Irving to take 
charge of my body and tell him to look in my bag.” 
What a scandal for the hotel! But Mr. Irving is in 
the Chinese service. Perhaps he can help us keep it 
quiet. 

Tan-Lo. Perhaps. 

(Porter goes to ’phone and calls up Irving.) 

Porter. (At ’phone) Hello! Is this Mr. 
Irving? (Pause) A stranger has shot himself, sir, 
and he left a note to send for you. (Pause) Yes. 
In the hotel. (Pause) No. There’s no mistake, 
sir. It is for Mr. Horace Irving. (Pause) You’ll 
come? (Pause) Thank you, sir. (Pause) Will 
you be long, sir? (Pause\ That’s very good, sir! 
Good-bye, sir. (He replaces the ’phone) He’ll be 
here soon. I’ll wait for him. (There is a pause) 
Sin-T. I count fourteen! You play. 

Tan-Lo. No. 

Sin-T. You play. 

Tan-Lo. No! 

Sin-T. Then give me his money! (Pause) Give. 
(Tan-Lo slowly and deliberately hands the purse 


12 


INNOCENT. 


to Sin-Tschu, who is surprised at Tan-Lo’s 
easy acquiescence and is suspicious that there is 
something wrong. There is a pause. Sin- 
Tschu opens purse and looks at the money. 
There is a pause.') 

Tan-Lo. ( Quietly ) Do not send for me when 
they put you in prison. 

Sin-T. Me—prison? 

Tan-Lo. He saw. (Tan-Lo indicates where 
Porter exits) They say—you stole. 

Sin-T. But he—( He indicates Room 5)— gave it. 
Tan-Lo. No can prove. 

Sin-T. You saw. 

Tan-Lo. No one believe! White man do many 
crazy things—but, give that—no one believe. ( There 
is a pause ^ Remember what I say—when they put 
you in prison—( There is a pause. Sin-Tschu offers 
purse to Tan-Lo) No. 

Sin-T. But I not want go prison! What I do? 
Tan-Lo. Put—there. (Tan-Lo indicates Room 

5) 

Sin-T. Hide where no one find—then get after? 
Tan-Lo. Fool! No. He saw. {Indicates where 
Porter went) Put him back! 

(Sin-Tschu exits to Room 5. There is a pause. 
Sin-Tschu re-enters.) 

Sin-T. I put it on floor—close him. 

Tan-Lo. He is lying on floor? 

Sin-T. Yes, with knees pull up. Like this— 
( Business for Sin-Tschu) You look. (He indicates 
for Tan-Lo to look in Room 5. Tan-Lo looks in 
Room 5) 

Tan-Lo. It is like you say. 

Sin-T. White people are put in long box and 
then in the ground. 

Tan-Lo. And there they stay — so they tell at 


INNOCENT. 


13 


Mission—till last trump sound—then they live again! 
I wonder if he live again. 

Sin-T. White people know nothing of true God! 
White people not know that death but a moment 
and that after soul rests and is happy. 

Tan-Lo. No. If they did they never send- 

(Porter enters followed by Irving.) 

Porter. He’s lying on the floor in there, sir, just 
as he fell. 


(Irving looks into Room 5.) 

Irving. My God, it’s Denes! (Irving enters 
Room 5. Off ) Denes! Speak to me! It’s Horace! 
Denes! ( There is a pause.. Irving re-enters) 

Porter. Dead—isn’t he, sir? 

Irving. Yes. He was my friend when I was 
here before. Why, I visited him only three months 
ago at Budapest. And now-! 

Porter. Have you any idea why he did it, sir? 

Irving. I know why he did it! 

Porter. In the note he left, sir, he said you were 
to look in his bag. 

Irving. Fetch it. 

Porter. Yes, sir. (Porter enters Room 5. 
There is a pause. Porter re-enters) Here’s his 
]3urse as well, sir. (He gives purse to Irving) The 
bag’s very light, sir. He seems to have taken every¬ 
thing out. 


(Irving opens the bag. From it he takes a small 
diary.) 

Irving. (Reading) “ To my friend, Horace 
Irving. The Journal of my Life.” Leave me alone, 
please, all of you. I’ll call you when I want you. 
(Chinese and Porter exeunt. Irving reads) “ My 
dear Horace: When you receive this, though near, I 




14 


INNOCENT. 


shall be far away. This journal is now all that re*- 
mains of my life and I wish you to read it because I 
realize that I have wronged you and I want you to 
understand and forgive. I have been weak, I know,, 
but that has really been the extent of my folly, that 
and the fact that I loved. All that has happened to me; 
in the last three years I have written here and when 
you have read it I beg that you will forgive me the 
wrong I did you and think of me only as you knew 7 
me during the years of our friendship. Good-bye. 
(Irving stops reading , turns toward the stage and 
says ) Denes! Denes! 

A QUICK CHANGE IS MADE TO ACT I. 


ACT I. 

I 

The scene is a room in the home of Peter Mc¬ 
Cormick in Mukden. 


The time is morning about two years earlier than 
the date of the prologue. 

Irving is discovered. He is smoking a cigarette 
and is evidently waiting for some one. 

There is a pause. 

The door-bell rings. 


Tan-Lo enters. He is a Chinese servant, the one 
Seen in the Prologue , but he wears a pigtail. He 
comes on slowly and without apparent interest. 

I 

Irving. Perhaps that's Mr. Sigary. 

Tan-Lo. Perhaps! I see. (Tan-Lo exits. Off 
stage ) Mr. Irving—he waiting see you. 



INNOCENT. 


15 


Denes. (Off stage) Very well, Tan-Lo. (Denes 
venters briskly, followed by Tan-Lo) Sorry I kept 
you waiting. 

Irving. It’s only been two or three minutes. 

Denes. I was detained. 

Irving. That’s all right. 

Denes. Seen McCormick? 

Irving. No. He’s sleeping, and as he isn’t ex¬ 
pecting me, I thought I’d wait till you came. 

Denes. I see. (To Tan-Lo) Has the Doctor 
Keen here this morning? 

Tan-Lo. No. Not to-day. 

Denes. He came last night? 

Tan-Lo. Yes. Last night. 

Denes. What did he say? 

Tan-Lo. Not know what doctor say. Know wb»t 
Mr. McCormick say. 

Denes. Well? 

Tan-Lo. He say “ Go to Hell ” velly plain. 
Velly-—velly plain. “ Go to hell-—Go to hell.” 

Denes. Tell Mr. McCormick that Mr. Irving and 
I have come to see him. 

Tan-Lo. I tell—I tell. (Tan-Lo exits) 

Irving. McCormick may be ill, but evidently he 
hasn’t lost his spirit. 

Denes. He’ll never do that. He’ll die fighting 
and cursing to the finish. 

Irving. He’s a devil and bad to the marrow, but 
one can’t help liking him. 

Denes. I know / can’t. 

Irving. You’re the closest friend he has. 

Denes. Yes. 

Irving. Practically the only one. 

Denes. Practically. 

(Tan-Lo re-enters.) 

Tan-Lo. In one—two—three minute*'—he come. 

Denes. Very well. 


36 


INNOCENT. 


Tan-Lo. Mr. Sigary! 

Denes. Yes- 

Tan-Lo.. You come teach Sunday School again— 
velly soon? 

Denes. I don’t know. 

Tan-Lo. I like you teach—velly funny, velly 
funny. 

Denes. What’s funny? 

Tan-Lo. “ Love your enemies ”—“ If fliend hit 
you this side of face, ask fliend hit you this side of 
face.” Velly funny! Velly funny! 

Denes. I see you’ve not turned Christian yet. 

Tan-Lo. Not yet! Good place here, Mr. Mc- 
Clormick. If Mr. McClormick die—and not get 
’notlier good place—p’laps I turn Chlistian velly 
soon. P’laps! P’laps! (Tan-Lo exits) 

Irving. There’s the spirit. 

Denes. Yes. He’ll turn Christian if McCor¬ 
mick dies and he doesn’t get another place. 

Irving. What’s really the matter with McCor¬ 
mick? 

Denes. Dissipation. 

Irving. Nothing else? 

Denes. That and its results! 

Irving. Too bad! 

Denes. How long have you known him? 

Irving. Personally since I came out here some 
nine years ago. I’d heard of him in England long 
before that, though. 

Denes. Soldier, wasn’t he? 

(Irving nods.) 

Irving. Brilliant young officer in crack Irish regi¬ 
ment. 

Denes. Cashiered I believe? 

Irving. Yes. 

Denes. Why? (There is a pause) Don’t tell 
me if it’s only gossip or scandal. 



INNOCENT. 


17 


Irving. There was no secret about it. He got 
into debt and forged another officer’s name. Only 
his family’s position and good of the regiment saved 
him from prosecution. 

Denes. And then he came out here. 

Irving. Not immediately. He was an extremely 
fascinating and ingratiating man and some houses 
continued to receive him. 

Denes. Well? 

Irving. He repaid the kindness of one of them 
b}' eloping with a young daughter, although he had 
a wife living at the time. 

Denes. Innocent’s mother I suppose? 

Irving. Innocent? 

Denes. McCormick’s daughter. 

Irving. Is that what he calls her? 

Denes. Yes. 

Irving. You’re the only man I know who has 
seen her. I don’t know any woman who has seen 
her either for he never takes her anywhere and no 
woman I know would come here. What is she like? 

Denes. Like? 

Irving. Yes. Is she—pretty—for instance? 

Denes. To tell the truth I don’t know. I’ve only 
seen her once or twice and I paid no particular at¬ 
tention to her. (Slight jiause) What became of the 
mother ? 

Irving. She died in France, I believe, a few 
months after the girl was born. And, by the way, 
what’s to become of the girl? 

Denes. I’ve thought of that. If anything hap¬ 
pened to him, don’t you think either family would 
receive her? 

Irving. I’m afraid not. She must be about 
eighteen now and neither his family nor the mother’s 
has ever set eyes on her! No! Knowing our people 
as I do, I think there’s precious little she can expect 
from them! 

Denes. I see. 


18 


INNOCENT. 


Irving. And if McCormick lives—what then? 

Denes. Why ? 

Irving. Whatever else she may be, the daughter 
is a white girl with gentle blood in her veins-! 

Denes. Yes. 

Irving. Who has never been allowed to associate 
with white people; who must be ignorant-! 

Denes. No. He’s taught her. 

Irving. I mean ignorant of life and the world. 
That’s true, isn’t it? 

Denes. Absolutely. 

Irving. In a year or two she’ll be a woman. Well, 
what’s to become of her? What can become of her? 

Denes. I don’t know. Do you? 

Irving. No. 

Denes. It’s a dreadful position for her—dread¬ 
ful ! 

Irving. Yes. Another proof that the sins of 
the fathers-! 

(McCormick enters, unseen by others .) 

McC. Shall be visited on the children. {He comes 
down) Hello Irving! 

Irving. Mr. McCormick- 

McC. {To Denes) Hello! 

Denes. Good morning. I was telling Irving you 
weren’t well and that I was coming to see you and 
he offered to come too. 

McC. .Good of him, I’m sure—and I’m feeling 
better to-day. 

Irving. Splendid. 

McC. You were talking about me. 

Denes. No. 

Irving. Of course not. 

McC. You’re liars. 

Denes. McCormick! 

Irving. Oh, I say! 

McC. You’re liars, both of you—and what’s more 






INNOCENT. 


19 


you know it and you know that I know it! You were 
talking about me and— (He breaks off suddenly ) 
Tan-Lo! Tan-Lo! Where is that slant-eyed son of 
a pigtailed father! Tan-Lo! Tan-Lo! (Tan-Lo 
rushes on ) Why the devil don’t you come when 
you’re called? 

Tan-Lo. I come soon—velly, velly soon. 

McC. And where are the lights, eh? Where are 
the lights? 

Tan-Lo. Me make! Me make! 

McC. You’d better! And be quick about it or that 
infinitesimal soul of yours will be making a hurried 
journey to hell! (He pushes Tan-Lo) Get on with 
you! 

(Tan-Lo hurries about lighting the lights. Mc¬ 
Cormick goes up stage to the sideboard .) 

Irving. (To Denes) Lights? (Denes nods 
warningly') But now—in the morning? 

Denes. (To Irving) Always. 

Irving. (To Denes) Oh! 

(McCormick brings down stage some heavy Malaga 
wine and crystal glasses which he places on the 
table. Tan-Lo finishes with the lights and 
exits .) 

McCormick. (Asking Irving to drink ) Mr. 

Irving? 

Irving. No, thank you. 

McC. .It’s the gift o’ the gods. 

Irving. Not for me. 

McC. (To Denes) And you? 

Denes. No thanks. 

McC. Just as you say. But you don’t know what 
you’re missing. (He fills a glass and is about to 
raise it toward his lips) 

Denes. McCormick- 



20 


INNOCENT. 


McC. Eh? 

Denes. I—I wouldn’t if I were you. 

McC. But you’re not me. (McCormick laughs 
and raises it toward his lips) 

Denes. Please, McCormick, please. (McCor¬ 
mick stops and looks at Denes) You haven’t even 
had breakfast! ( Slight pause ) And remember what 

the doctor said! 

McC. I know! I’m headed straight for death—- 
so what good can it do to break the journey. 

Denes. McCormick! 

Irving. Please! 

McC. You mean well—I know that—or I’d crack 
the heads o’ both o’ you for your damned imperti¬ 
nence. ( He raises the glass) This is my friend— 
yes, more than my friend—my lady love! When I’m 
down on my luck, she cheers me; when the world 
seems blackest, she smiles on me. Whatever my 
mood, she understands it and shares it with me; no 
matter how low I may go, she’ll be faithful and 
stick to me ! So—here’s to her ! (He drinks. There 
is a pause. He re-fills the glass) 

Denes. No more now. 

McC. Just this one. 

Irving. McCormick! 

Denes. Please! 

McC. This one and that’s all. It’s a promise. 
(He holds the glass to his nose and sniffs the bouquet 
in a characteristic manner) The perfume of it— 
more fragrant than the lotus blossoms and more 
delicate than the wild violet that grows in the greenest 
grass in the greenest country in all the world! And 
the color of it. Look! (He holds the glass so that 
the sunlight streams on it) What precious stone is 
as beautiful as that? There’s the swaying of ripened 
wheat, the soft shimmer of wavy blonde hair, the 
look of worship in glorious gold brown eyes! Small 
wonder I love it. Small wonder. (He drinks , then 


INNOCENT. 


21 

puts the glass down ) You’re English, I know, Mr, 
Irving. 

Irving. Yes. 

McC. Well, we’ll try not to hold it against you! 

Irving. Thank you. 

McC. And what brought you out here to the 
East—to Manchuria? 

Irving, I came as an attache of the Embassy. 

McC. And now you’re in the Chinese service. 

Irving, Yes, but very soon I’m going back- 
home. 

McC. And you think that in time you’ll marry 
a pink-cheeked, white-frocked girl and be happy ever 
after, content with the raising of a family, with an 
occasional glimpse of the sun, with the sight of a 
cricket game at the Oval once in a while, a night now 
and then at the play, and when wifie has a headache a 
visit to one of those mausoleums which you English 
•call clubs. That’s the idea, isn’t it? 

Irving. That’s it exactly ! 

McC. Well, accept my assurance that you won’t 
do it. 

Irving. And why? 

McC. Because you’ve heard the East a calling! 
That’s why. (Irving laughs ) You may laugh, but 
it’s the trutli just the same. 

Irving. We’ll see. 

McC. You mean— you’ll see! (To Denes) I 
suppose you expect to go back as well? 

Denes. Yes, to Budapest, the most fascinating city 
in the world, with its opera, its gaiety and its beauti¬ 
ful women. Of course I expect to go back. If I 
hadn’t expected to, ever since I came here three 
years ago, I certainly should have sold my little house 
in the city—yes, and the little farm too—and though 
the house is mortgaged to the limit, one way or an¬ 
other I’ve managed to keep them both. 

McC. A farm, eh? 

Denes. Just a bit of a place—barely enough to 


INNOCENT. 


22 

turn round on; still it’s mine and ready for me to gis 
to in case I ever get tired of my beloved and beauti¬ 
ful Budapest. 

McC. And when do you think you’ll go back 
there? 

Denes. In six months or a year perhaps. I won¬ 
der if the boys will be glad to see me and if I’ll be 
able to take my old place again in the favorite corner. 

McC. And the girls—the sweetheart you left be¬ 
hind? For you did leave one, didn’t you? 

Denes. She’s forgotten me long ago., ; 

Irving. Then she wasn’t the right kind. 

Denes. She didn’t pretend to be anything that 
she wasn’t. So long as luck was with me and I could 
give her the things she expected, everything was 
pleasant and happy, but when the luck turned and 
went against me-! 

McC. She went too. 

Denes. In a perfectly satisfactory manner. I 
was never rich—had just enough to keep me decently 
as a bachelor if I had been satisfied to let the money 
remain invested—but I wasn’t, and it went —(To 
McCormick) You know how. 

(McCormick nods .) 

McC. Gambling. 

Denes. Yes. To me there’s a thrill in it that 
nothing else can give. 

McC. I’ve felt it, too, in the days gone by. 

Denes. Well, when I couldn’t go even an inch 
further, I laid the matter before my uncle. He de¬ 
voted two hours of his valuable time to lecturing me 
on the folly of my ways and finally agreed to send 
me out here to represent his paper; so I invited her 
to a little farewell dinner, explained exactly how 
matters stood, gave her more money than I could 
afford, and we kissed each other good-bye. 

McC. And the matter was ended. 



INNOCENT. 


2B 


Denes. Yes. 

McC. As you say, in a very satisfactory manner. 
({There is a pause ) 

Irving. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Mr. Mc¬ 
Cormick. I came to find out if there’s anything I 
can do for you. 

McC. Thank you, but there’s not. 

Irving. You’re quite sure. 

McC. Quite. 

Irving. Then I’ll move along. Good-bye. 

McC. Good-bye, and thank you again. 

Irving. Not at all! (To Denes) Good-bye,’ old 
'man. 

Denes. Good-bye. See you this evening. 

Irving. Certainly ! And Mr. McCormick-- 

McC. Yes. 

Irving. I shall find the white-frocked, pink¬ 
cheeked girl and we’ll love each other to the very 
end. You’ll see. Good-bye. (Irving exits) 

McC. A nice boy, a clean boy, with a young man’s 
Idea of love. 

Denes. Don’t you believe in love? 

McC. Believe in it? Once, I’d have died for 
love of a woman, and she did die for love of me. 
Yes, and she knew me for what I was; she knew I 
was wrong right through and yet she gave up every¬ 
thing for me—everything! Yes, and she would have 
Jived only slie was too delicate, too sensitive for the 
fight we had to make. She was hurt too much by 
frigid silences, by the pulling aside of another wo¬ 
man’s skirt, by being looked at without being seen! 
I knew she was slipping away from me and I 
remembered that Wilde had written “ Man always 
kills tlie tiling he loves ” and I hated him for it, 
hated liim with the liate one man always gives an¬ 
other when he tells him the truth he doesn’t want to 
believe! And I said “ she shan’t die. She shan’t. 
I’ll keep her in spite of everytliing and every body.” 



24 


INNOCENT. 


But I knew I couldn’t—I knew it—even when I said 
it. ( There is a pause ) You guess who it was. 

Denes. Innocent’s mother. 

McC. Yes. When Innocent came, she wouldir’fc 
have died had she been home with her family and her 
friends—and so—I killed her. 

Denes. McCormick ! 

McC. I did. I killed her as surely as if I’d 
stabbed her with a knife. ( There is a pause ) And 
now—there’s Innocent! And I’ve grown to love her 
-—and I wonder. I wonder! ( There is a pause ) 
The sins of the fathers! ( There is a pause ) 
The truest thing ever written—but it’s hell on the 
children. 

Denes. You mean? 

McC. Innocent! She has my blood in her veins* 

Denes. She has her mother’s blood too. 

McC. But suppose mine is the stronger? Sup¬ 
pose she takes after me? 

Denes. Really now, McCormick! 

McC. That’s what I’m afraid of—what I’ve been 
fighting all these years! Do you know what my be¬ 
setting sin was—the fact that I couldn’t do without 
the things that I couldn’t afford. I was the son of a 
poverty-stricken Irish baronet and I had the tastes of 
an Emperor. 

Denes. Has she ever shown—any-! 

McC. No. But then she’s had no chance. I’ve 
kept all knowledge of the world away from her. I’ve 
been her only companion. I’ve selected her books, 
I’ve taught her everything she knows. If ever a man 
tried to keep the mind and heart of his child pure 
and clean, believe me, I am that man. 

Denes. I know it. Then why should you im¬ 
agine—-— 

McC. Because I’m afraid. I love her! And 
“ Man always kills the thing he loves.” (He speaks 
fiercely) Curse him for saving that. May his soul 




INNOCENT. 


25 


rot in hell for it. Curse him and damn him—that’s 
what I say. ( He goes to pour out some wine) 

Denes. McCormick! 

McC. ( Stops and looks at him) Well! 

Denes. You promised. 

McC. What? Oh, so I did. But just this one? 

Denes. No! 

McC. Only one! What do you say? 

Denes. You promised. 

McC. Sure I did. But—! Eh? (Pause) Eh? 

Denes. No. (There is a pause) 

McC. Oh! What’s a promise more or less when 
your heart’s burning up! (He starts to pour out the 
drink) 

Denes. McCormick!! (There is a pause) 

McC. Oh, very well! (He puts the glass down) 
But I almost got it, didn’t I,—eh? (There is a 
pause) And what was I speaking of! (Pause) In¬ 
nocent ! Oh, yes ! Innocent! Do you know why I’ve 
kept her with me all alone? Of course you don’t, so 
I’ll tell you. I want her to be happy. But only the 
contented woman is happy and only the ignorant 
woman is contented. 

Denes. I don’t agree with you. Some of the 
happiest women I’ve known were well read and 
charming. 

McC. But still they were ignorant—ignorant of 
the world and of life. They knew only their own 
little circle! And they were religious women, too, 
weren’t they? 

Denes. Yes. 

McC. That’s the kind that are happy and that’s 
the kind I want Innocent to be. I’m not a religious 
man myself, as you may know, but I’ve taught it all to 
Innocent from baptism to hell fire and she believes it. 
You shall see. (He calls) Innocent! Innocent, 
darling! Innocent! 

(Innocent enters in Chinese dress.) 


26 


INNOCENT. 


Innocent. Good morning, father! (There is a 
pause. McCormick kisses her) 

McC. Good morning, my cup o’ joy. 

Innocent. (To Denes) Good morning. 

Denes. Good morning! 

McC. Did you sleep well, child? 

Innocent. Yes, father. 

McC. And you’re happy? 

Innocent. Yes! Very. 

McC. Very happy, are you? 

Innocent. Yes, father. 

McC. And why are you so very happy? (Pause) 
Why? (Pause) Tell me, dear, why? 

Innocent. Because you called me while Mi. 
Sigary is here. 

McC. And that makes you very happy? 

Innocent. Yes. There’s some one to talk to. 

McC. (In a low tone) I see. 

Innocent. Don’t be displeased with me. 

McC. I’m not, child. 

Innocent. Except you, Mr. Sigary is the onl\ 
European I know. 

Denes. I’m honored. 

McC. And you think it’s time you knew some 
others. Don’t you? 

Innocent. If you wish me to. 

McC. And if I don’t wish you to. W T hat then? 

Innocent. I’ll be good. (He takes her face be¬ 
tween his hands and looks into her eyes) 

McC. I hope you’ll always be good, child; al¬ 
ways! (He kisses her. There is a pause) 

Innocent. But I do wish I knew some other 
Europeans. It’s so lonely. 

McC. You have your books—and your music. 

Innocent. They can’t talk to you and tell 
you-! (She stops) 

McC. What, child? (Pause) What? 

Innocent. The things you want to know. 

McC. And what is it you want to know? 



INNOCENT. 


27 


Innocent. Everything! About the world—and 
the people—why some are poor, and others rich—- 
and why some of them are sad—and others laugh— 
when they go past my window. 

McC. That’s the riddle of the universe and no 
man’s been able to answer it. 

Innocent. It must be dreadful to be poor and 
sad. I want to be merry, and laugh. There’s some¬ 
thing here— (a She puts her hands to her breast. There 
is a pause ) Father, is it wrong to want to laugh—• 
and be happy—and have pretty things. Is it? 

McC. No, child! 

Innocent. I’m glad. Because I want it very 
much! {Pause) There are many things I’ve wanted 
lately and some of them I don’t understand. I want 
to sing—and dance—and go out into the world and— 
and-! 

McC. And—what ? 

Innocent. I don’t know. That’s the part I don’t 
understand. {There is a pause. McCormick turns 
away) Have I said anything I shouldn’t? {Pause) 
Have I? 

McC. No. 

Innocent. I’m glad. 

Denes. Sucli feelings are perfectly natural. 

Innocent. Are they? 

Denes. Yes. It’s the spirit of youth, that’s all. 
{To McCormick) Isn’t it? 

McC. Perhaps. 

Innocent. And I may think about them all I 
please? Of the things I’ve read and seen pictures 
of? Of men in their evening clothes and big fur 
coats, of wonderful dances where the beautiful ladies 
are dressed European style and have perfumes in 
their hair and necklaces of diamonds and ropes of 
pearls, and w T here they-! 

McC. Stop! Stop, I tell you! Such things are 
not for you and never will be. 

Innocent. And I mustn’t think about them? 




28 


INNOCENT. 


McC. You must put all such thoughts out of your 
head. Promise me you will. Promise me. 

Innocent. Yes, father! 

McC. I’m poor, and you’re poor, and those things 
are for the rich! And often the men who give them 
have stolen them and the women have sold their souls 
for them, and for it they’ll go down to hell fire and 
torment everlasting and you don’t want that, do you? 

Innocent. Oh, no! ( Pause ) But it must be 
wonderful to have them. 

McC. I love you, child. You know that. 

Innocent. Yes, father. 

McC. Then let these words sink down deep into 
your soul. By the love I bear you, by the love your 
mother bore you when she gave up her life for you, 
don’t set your heart on worldly things, for if you do 
it will bring sorrow and misery and death, not only to 
you but to those who know you and love you! Re¬ 
member that—always! 

Innocent. I will, father! (Innocent begins to 

cry very softly) 

Denes. I think you’re taking the matter too 
seriously. 

McC. I’m not. It’s written! It’s inevitable! 
Don’t cry, child. I didn’t mean to hurt you. 

Innocent. But I was so happy—with my dreams 
—and now—I mustn’t have them anv more. ( There 
is a pause ) And I thought—if I had beautiful clothes 
—perhaps—I might be beautiful, too—and then I— 
I- 


McC. What? 

Innocent. I don’t know. 

McC. Put such things out of your head for they 
mean misery and death, I tell you—misery and death! 

Innocent. I will. I 11 be good. (There is a 
pause) 


McC. She’s like her mother—so much like her! 
If only she —(He takes her in his arms) Well, I’ve 



INNOCENT. 


29 


kisses her. There is a pause ) Breakfast can’t be 
long now. Let me know when it’s ready. 

Innocent. Yes, father. (Innocent exits. There 
is a pause) 

McC. I lose! 

Denes. Lose? 

McC. She’s my child. It’s in the blood. 

Denes. You take the matter entirely too seriously, 
I tell you. She don’t say or suggest one single thing 
that an ordinary girl in the same circumstances 
wouldn’t. ( There is a pause ) Besides, the child’s so 
much alone, how can she help dreaming! And why 
shouldn’t her thoughts go to pretty clothes and such 
things, every other girl’s do? Why shouldn’t they? 
Come now, tell me! Why? ( There is a pause) 
Isn’t it the natural thing? (Pause) Well, isn’t it? 
(There is a pause) Of course it is. You’re morbid 
on the subject. You’ve thought too much about it and 
it’s got on your nerves. That’s all there is to it. 

McC. I hope you’re right. 

Denes. I know I’m right. 

McC. And now I must tell you why I asked you 
to come to see me this morning. 

Denes. Yes. 

McC. The end of the journey’s in sight for me. 

Denes. It’s not so bad as that. 

McC. It is. I know it even better than the doctor, 
and when I’ve crossed the mark, there’ll be no one to 
care for Innocent—but you. 

Denes. Me? 

McC. You! (There is a pause) You’ll do it? 

Denes. I don’t know. It’s so unexpected. 

McC. There’s no one else. 

Denes. But I—I wouldn’t know what to do. I’ve 
never even had a sister. 

McC. Keep her out of the big world, that’s all. 
Let her marry some clean young chap who has a farm 
somewhere, or a business in a small town. The city 


30 


INNOCENT. 


is not for her. Remember that. (There is a 'pause')) 
You will? 

Denes. I don’t want to promise now. I must 
think it over. 

McC. You’ll do it. I know you will! I couldn’t 
rest easy in my grave if I wasn’t sure of it. 

(Innocent re-enters) And so we’ll-! 

Innocent. Breakfast is ready, father. 

McC. Very well, child, i (To Denes) Will you 
join us? 

Denes. No thanks. I breakfasted some time ago. 
McC. You’ll come and see me to-morrow,, about 
the same time? 

Denes. Yes. 

McC. It’s a promise? 

Denes. Yes. 

McD. Then good-bye! (McCormick puts out his 
hand. Denes takes it) 

Denes. Good-bye! (Denes starts to go) 
Innocent. Good-bye, Mr. Sigary. 

Denes. Oh, good-bye, Innocent, good-bye. 
(Denes exits. There is a pause) 

(McCormick takes Innocent’s face in his hands and 
gazes into her eyes. Then he puts his arm, lov¬ 
ingly about her and they exeunt.) 

CURTAIN ON ACT I. 


ACT II. 

The living room in the home of Denes, in Budapest. 

The time is about a year later than the previous 
scene and it is night. 

Denes is discovered unpacking a trunk. He is 
in a gay humor. 




INNOCENT. 


"31 


'There is a pause. 

T'he door-bell rings . 

Grete, a servant girl, crosses and exits to hall 

as if to open door. 

Denes stands listening. 

Szidi. (Off) Is Mr. Sigray at home? 

Grete. (Off) Yes, madam. 

Denes. (To himself) Good Lord! 

Szidi. (Off) Then I’ll come in. I know the way. 
^Szidi enters) Hello! 

Denes. Oh, hello, Szidi. 

(Grete crosses and exits. Szidi goes to him and 
offers her hand, which he takes.) 

Szidi. (Coquettislily) Aren’t you glad to see me? 

Denes. Why yes, of course I am. 

Szidi. You’re not very enthusiastic about it. 

Denes. I’m so surprised. After six years too. I 
had no idea whether you were here in Budapest, or 
where you were. And now you drop in just as-! 

Szidi. Just as I used to do. Eh? (There is a 
pause) 

Denes. How did you know I had returned? 

Szidi. Saw it in this afternoon’s paper. Got back 
last night, didn’t you? 

Denes. Yes. 

Szidi. You haven’t changed much. And you’re 
looking decidedly better than you did when you left. 

Denes. I am better. 

Szidi. The room hasn’t changed at all. When you 
get these trunks out of the way, it will look just as it 
did. (She looks about) Your study and workroom 
where you never worked. (Opening a door) Your 



32 


INNOCENT. 


bedroom which never saw you till daylight! Aral 

this room- ( She starts to open the other door) 

Denes. Stop. 


(Szim turns.} 

Szidi. What’s the matter? 

Denes. You can’t go in there. 

Szidi. Why not? 

Denes. You can’t—that’s all. 

Szidi. Why? Is there a girl there? 

Denes. No. 

Szidi. Then what’s the harm? (Szidi goes as if 
to open the door) 

Denes. ( Sharply ) Szidi! 

Szidi. You silly boy, I’m not jealous. You don’t 
suppose I expected you to be true to me for six years. 
(There is a pause) Your—sweetheart? 

Denes. No! Certainly not! 

Szidi. Who, then? 

Denes. A girl whose father died. I have taken 
his place. 

Szidi. I’d like to meet her. 

Denes. She’s gone to the opera. 

Szidi. With the English friend the paper said 
came with you? , 

Denes. Yes. 

Szidi. Some other time then? 

Denes. I’m afraid not. 

Szidi. Why? ( There is a pause) Why? 

Denes. She isn’t—your kind! 

Szidi. And—what is my kind? 

Denes. Please. 

(Szidi laughs.) 

Szidi. You get frightened too easily, Denes! And 
you’re wrong about my kind. I’m married now! 
Denes. Married! 



INNOCENT. 


33 


Szidi. Yes. 

Denes. And does your husband know about—us ? 

Szidi. Of course not. He doesn’t know any¬ 
thing about anybody. He’s a schoolmaster! 

Denes. He is? 

Szidi. From the country! And he worships me—- 
and thinks I m the most wonderful being in the world! 
And all the other professors are envious and all their 
wives are jealous. I’m a new kind of creature and 
they haven’t been able to classify me. I’m a butterfly 
among a lot of beetles. 

Denes. Beetles? 

Szidi. Yes. They have long faces, still use whale¬ 
bone corsets, dress in black silk and wear red flannel 
petticoats. They’re beetles, I tell you; and their 
husbands are beetles; and my husband is a beetle, and 
he’d never associated with or even talked to a butter¬ 
fly till he met me, and the first time he saw my pretty 
lace brasier with the baby-blue ribbons—! Tell me, 
Denes, why do men always go crazy over baby-blue? 

Denes. I didn’t know that they did. 

Szidi. Well, they do—that and pink—particularly 
a bright, but innocent pink. 

Denes. I don’t know anything about that. But 
this I do know—I think your beetle of a husband 
would object very strenuously to your coming here to 
visit another butterfly at this time of night. 

Szidi. Why? Why shouldn’t I come to visit a 
relative ? 

Denes. Relative! 

Szidi. Yes. You’re my cousin; my kind, consider¬ 
ate and generous cousin. 

Denes. See here, Szidi, I don’t like-! 

Szidi. Being a poor but honest working girl, no 
matter how industrious I was, I couldn’t earn the 
money to buy the pretty dresses and underclothes and 
rings and things that I had, now could I ? Of course 
not! And so you, my dear cousin in China, sent the 



34 INNOCENT. 

money to me. You don’t know what a kind and 
liberal cousin you are, and so I came to tell you. 

Denes. Your being married makes a lot of dif¬ 
ference and I don’t like your coming here. 

Szidi. This time I had to come. He read of your 
arrival too, and when he came home he quite natu¬ 
rally wanted to come and thank you for your kindness 
to his dear little wife. As I had no objection ready, 
I fell in with his plans, but arranged matters so that 
I came on ahead and he is going to call for me. It 
took some quick thinking, I tell you! Ah, men little 
know the trouble we women have, to keep our hus¬ 
bands happy! 

Denes. He’s— coming here? 

Szidi. Yes. 

Denes. Then don’t you think I’d better know 
something about you—how long you’ve been married, 
your name and a few such details as that? 

Szidi. Of course. I’ve been married nearly two 
years and my name is Sokop! Isn’t that a funny 
name? Sokop— (She laughs') Imagine me as Mrs. 
Sokop. (She laughs again. The door-bell rings') 
Perhaps that’s Joseph now. 

Denes. Joseph- 

Szidi. My husband. 

Denes. Oh! 

o 

(Grete crosses as if to answer bell.) 

Szidi. (In an entirely different manner ) I do 
hope that’s my dear husband. He’s just the nicest, 
sweetest man. And he’s so anxious to meet you, 
cousin. He-! 

Betessey. (Off) Hello, Denes! 

Kapos. (Off) Here we are! 

Denes. Yes. 

Szidi. Just like old times, isn’t it? 


(Betessey and Kapos enter. They do not see Szidi.) 




INNOCENT. 


35 


Kapos. Denes, old boy! My, but I’m glad to see 
you! 

Denes. Same here, Bela. ( They shake hands') 

Betessey. Welcome home! (Shake hands) 

Denes. Are you really glad to see me back? 

Betessey. Indeed we are! 

Kapos. All of us. 

Szidi. What about me? You haven’t seen me for 
a long time either. 

(Betessey and Kapos turn and see Szidi.) 

Betessey. Szidi! 

Kapos. Who would have thought it! 

(They cross and shake hands with Szidi.) 

Kapos. Now it is like old times. 

Denes. Are things changed very much? 

Kapos. Not at all. It’s just as though you were 
here yesterday or had never been away. Your place 
is still waiting for you at the club-! 

Denes. Good! 

Kapos. And everyone will be delighted to see you 
there again—every one ! 

Denes. I’m glad. 

Kapos. Let’s dine together to-morrow night. 

Betessey. Yes. 

Denes. Splendid! The old four—we three and 
Harrer. You’ll arrange with Harrer, won’t you? 
(There is a pause) What’s the matter? 

Kapos. Haven’t you heard? 

Denes. No. 

Kapos. Harrer is in Brazil. 

Betessey. He had to leave. 

Szidi. Gambling! 

Denes. I see. 

Kapos. He did nothing dishonorable, but he got 
in too deeply. 



36 


INNOCENT. 


Denes. As all gamblers do at one time or an¬ 
other. 

Kapos. He sold everything, but even that wasn’t 
—quite—enough, so the rest was—arranged—and he 
went to Brazil. 

Szidi. It should be a lesson to all of you. 

Denes. I’ve had my lesson! You all know that 
it wasn’t for pleasure that I went to Manchuria. I 
was in Harrer’s position exactly. 

Kapos. Only you had relatives. 

Denes. It was all that saved me! Well, when I 
got to Manchuria I thought I should have to come 
back quickly or die. But I didn’t. I stayed and 
learned how to live. 

Betessey. Out there? 

Denes. Yes. The art of living is to rejoice— 
rejoice over little things. There men take example 
from the ants. No one works only for himself. 
Each man has his duty to do and does it and when 
his time comes—he goes, and he is buried in front of 
his own house, or in the garden where he lived or 
where the others live. That’s all! To him death isn’t 
sorrowful, death isn’t the end! Like birth, it is only 
the beginning, only a moment,—why worry about it? 
Out there I learned not to take either life or myself 
too seriously. I learned the joy of—restfulness. 

Szidi. Well, I’m not an ant. I’m a butterfly. 
What about me? 

Betessey. Yes. 

Denes. We are no longer of the same class. Each 
must live his own life his own way. 

Kapos. Does that include—us? (He indicates 

Betessey and himself ) 

Denes. Yes. (Pause) I thought I wanted to 
come back to the old life; I find that I don’t! And, 
besides—I’m afraid. 

Kapos. Afraid? 

Denes. Yes. 

Kapos. Of what? 


INNOCENT. 


37 


Denes. Of what has happened to Harrer! You 
all know that, once started, I’m a much more des¬ 
perate gambler than he is. As some men get drunk 
•on wine, I get drunk on cards. Given a little luck, I 
simply can’t stop playing. I have to go on, and the 
result is always the samel Boys, I thank you for 
your welcome and I’m delighted to see you, delighted 
from the bottom of my heart, but I’m weak—and I 
know it—so 1 have made up my mind that the old 
life is over for me. I am going to keep myself out 
of temptation. 

Kapos. Perhaps you are right. 

Denes. I know I am. 

Betessey. What will you do? 

Szidi. Yes. 

Denes. I’ve a little farm in the country. I’ll live 
there. 

Szidi. I can see you! 

Denes. That’s what I’m going to do! And I’m 
sure I shall be happier there-! 

{The door-hell rings.) 

Szidi. There’s my husband now. 

(Grete goes to open door.) 

Kapos. Your husband? 

Szidi. Certainly. 

Betessey. Well, what do you think of that? 

Denes. She’s been married nearly two years and, 
in honor of her husband’s arrival, I’ll make some tea. 

Szidi. This time of night! 

Denes. I’ve just come from China you know. 
Besides, this is a special brand and I’m sure you’ll 
like it. (Denes goes up stage to prepare the tea) 

(Sokop enters followed by Grete who crosses and 
exits. Szidi goes to Sokop.) 



INNOCENT. 


38 


Szidi. Joseph- 

Sokop. Darling— {He kisses her ) 

(Szidi takes him down stage to present him to 
Kapos and Betessey.) 

Szidi. My husband — {Indicating Kapos) This 

gentleman is-! 

Sokop. I know. Don’t tell me. 

Szidi. But, dearest-1 

Sokop. Kindness and benevolence are written on 
his face. This is dear, kind Denes. How do you do! 
{He extends his hand ) 

Kapos. Excuse me, but I am not Denes. 

Sokop. No. 

Szidi. That gentleman’s name is Kapos. I was 
just going to tell you. 

Sokop. Then this is Cousin Denes— {He offers 
his hand to Betessey) 

Betessey. My name is Betessey. 

Sokop. Really. 

(Denes comes down.) 

Denes. I am Denes. 

(Sokop turns and sees Denes.) 

Sokop. Of course you are. I am glad to meet 
you, Cousin Denes. {He offers his hand whick 
Denes takes) 

(Szidi, Kapos and Betessey are on one side of the 
stage. Denes and Sokop on the other.) 

Kapos. {To Szidi) Cousin? 

Szidi. {To Kapos) Ssh! Ssh!! 

Sokop. I shall never be able to thank jmu suf¬ 
ficiently for all your kindness to my dear little wife. 
Denes. Not at all. 





INNOCENT. 


39 


Kapos. (To Szidi, in a whisper) What’s the 
idea ? 

Szidi. (To Kapos) Keep still. 

Sokop. To be good to her while you were here 
was a great virtue, but to think of her while you 
were so far away, and to remit to her regularly and 
generously—Ah, that was virtue indeed. 

Denes. Any man would have done as much for— 
his cousin. 

Kapos. (To Szidi and Betessey) I see. 

Sokop. Pardon me, if I dispute that assertion. 
It does great credit to your kindness of heart, but it 
shows that you do not know the world and human 
nature. 

Denes. Really, Mr. Sokop, I-! 

Sokop. Call me “Cousin Joseph!” 

Denes. Well—er-! — 

Sokop. Please! “Cousin Joseph!” 

Denes. Cousin Joseph! 

Sokop. Thank you! 

Kapos. I have known your wife for some time. 

Sokop. How interesting. 

(Denes goes up and makes the tea.) 

Betessey. So have I. 

Kapos. May I ask how you come to meet? 

Sokop. We lived in the same house—on the same 
floor. One afternoon—having returned home earlier 
than usual, I passed her door. It was open. She 
was combing her hair—and I saw her—and—she be¬ 
came my wife. 

Kapos. Very interesting. 

Betessey. Very. 

Szidi. You haven’t regretted it either, have you, 
dearest? 

Sokop. Not for a moment. I have but one wish 
now— on e desire. I should like to hear her called 
“ Wife of the Director.” 




40 


INNOCENT. 


Kapos. Perhaps she will be some day. 

Sokop. I am now forty-five and the director is 
sixty-five. If he should happen to retire! or if he 

died—just for my sake- 

Szidi. Isn’t he sweet! 

Betessey. He is indeed. 

(Denes comes down.) 

Denes. Will you have a cup of tea with me? 

Sokop. I should like to—very much—but-! 

Szidi. This is Thursday and he has to correct his 
school work. 

Sokop. Yes. 

Denes. I’m sorry. 

Szidi. We’ll come some other time though, won’t 
we, dearest? 

Sokop. With great pleasure! (To Betessey) 
Good-bye, sir! 

Betessey. Good-bye, Mr. Sokop. (They shake 
hands) 

Sokop. (To Kapos) Good-bye. 

Kapos. Good-bye! 

Szidi. Good-bye, everybody! 

Kapos and Betessey. Good-bye. 

Sokop. (To Denes) Good-bye, Cousin Denes. 
(He gives his hand to Denes) There are some good 
relatives in the world after all. (To Szidi) Come, 
dear. (He places her arm in his. They exeunt) 

(Denes goes to exit as if to see them off. There is 
a pause. The door closes. Kapos and Betessey 
laugh. Denes comes down.) 

Betessey. That was splendid! 

Kapos. No one but a woman could have done it. 
Denes. I’m sorry for him. He lives in a dream. 
Suppose he were ever awakened. 

Kapos. I don’t pity him. Just think what Szidi 




INNOCENT. 


41 


has done for him. Till he met her he’d known only 
that class of good women to whom goodness is a 
synonym for drabness. Now he has in his home a 
nice, amiable, sweet-smelling, joy-giving woman. 
He’s ignorant—yes—but he’s lucky—he’s damn 
lucky—he’s happy! 

Denes. So is the opium smoker—while he can get 
the drug. 

Kapos. We won’t quarrel over it! And to show 
that I’m still your friend, whenever you wish it. I’ll 
introduce you to the prettiest girl you ever saw- 

Denes. No 4 thanks. 

Kapos. She’s just your style and-! 

Denes. No! I meant all that I said about living 
in the country—every word of it. 

(Irving and Von Guggen enter.) 

Irving. See who insisted on coming with me. 

Von G. (To Denes) How do you do! You re¬ 
member me, of course. 

Denes. Certainly! Quite well! Only I regret 
to say I don’t exactly recall-! 

Von G. Manchuria! Four years ago. 

Denes. Of course! Von Guggen! Of the Ger¬ 
man Embassy. 

Von G. Precisely! How do you do! (Von 
Guggen cjives Denes his hand) 

Denes. Glad to see you again. 

Irving. I wonder that you remember him at all. 
He left so soon after you came. 

Von G. Some men are born to be forgotten— 
some to be remembered. 

Irving. And you are one of the latter. 

Von G. You have said it. 

Denes. (To Kapos and Betessey) Let me pre¬ 
sent my friend, Mr. Irving! Horace, Mr. Kapos, 
Mr. Betessey. (They acknowledge the introduction) 
And this gentleman is Mr. Von Guggen. (They 





42 


INNOCENT. 


acknowledge the introduction) Where is Innocent? 

Irving. Hearing voices and not knowing whether 
she should come in or not, she went to her room. 

Kapos. And who is Innocent? 

Denes. A girl of whom I have taken her charge. 

Von G. And such a girl! I am for my own 
pleasure and adventure taking a trip around the 
world. Three days ago I was at the races at Liver¬ 
pool and this evening at the opera in Budapest. Be¬ 
tween the acts there was the buzz of conversation and 
the leveling of opera glasses which bespeak the pres¬ 
ence of a personage. I looked to see what was to be 
seen and I beheld a girl—the most exquisite creature 
in the world—a perfect vision of unspoiled loveli¬ 
ness. 

Denes. Oh, come! 

Von G. I repeat—a perfect vision of unspoiled 
loveliness ! Well, if I may say so, I am in some things 
fortunate, particularly with women— (Irving coughs 
deprecatingly ) There is no vanity about it. I am 
simply stating a fact. With cards and women I am 
fortunate. It is no credit to me. I was born so! 
Even in this case my luck did not desert me for the 
girl’s escort was my old acquaintance here, whom I 
had not seen for years. Naturally I go to him. 
Naturally I seek and obtain an introduction, then I 
find that you have returned and are the young lady’s 
guardian. So I insist that I be brought here to renew 
our acquaintance, and here I am. 

Betessey. Quite a romantic re-union ! 

Kapos. Yes. (To Denes) Did I understand 
you to say the young lady’s name was Innocent? 

Denes. Yes. 

Irving. It was her father’s name for her. 

Von G. Her name may be Innocent, but I know 
women and I assure you that beneath that calm man¬ 
ner and under that white skin there is a passion and 
a power of which you have never dreamed and of 
which she is only faintlv aware. Once it is aroused, 


INNOCENT. 43 

once she knows herself, the world will be all too 
small for her. 

Denes. That is where you are mistaken. A little 
Hungarian country home will be large enough for 
her. 

Von G. You are in error, my friend. The dia¬ 
mond of Nisam can be worn only by a prince; no 
peasant buries it in his straw. . 

Denes. Just the same it will be exactly as I have 
said. I am going to take her to the country and 
marry her to some steady, good young man. It was 
her father’s wish. 

Von G. Her father! There was a man for you. 
What was that song he used to sing when he was 
half drunk? It went something like this. (VoN 
Guggen tries to sing it, but doesn’t quite catch the 
air) 

Denes. Wasn’t this it? (Denes goes to the piano 
and plays and sings the song. The other men go to 
piano. Horace and Von Guggen sing the chorus 
with him. Innocent appears. Denes sings an¬ 
other verse. All three start the chorus. Innocent 
joins in chorus. Kapos and Betessey stand staring 
at her. The others stop singing and look at Inno¬ 
cent, who finishes the chorus alone) 

Denes. Innocent! 

Innocent. Please don’t be angry with me. 

Von G. Of course he will not. 

Innocent. I heard the song and had to come I 
couldn’t help it. It brought back—memories. 

Denes. And memories are beyond our power! 
Let me present my friends, Mr. Kapos and Mr. 
Betessey ! This is Innocent. 

(They acknowledge the introduction.) 

Kapos. You swindler. You spoke of her as if 
she were a child. 

Denes. She is a child. 


INNOCENT. 


44 


Innocent. But please—I am not. I am a young 
woman. 

Irving. She liked the opera immensely. 

Innocent. I loved it. I adored it. 

Denes. Isn’t the jewel song wonderful? 

Irving. It wasn’t Faust. The prima donna was 
ill and the bill was changed to Carmen. 

Denes. That’s too bad. Innocent wouldn’t under¬ 
stand that character at all. 

Innocent. But I did—every word—every 
thought. Why shouldn’t I ? 

Von G. Exactly. Why shouldn’t she? (Pause) 
Eh? Why shouldn’t she? 

Denes. She only thinks she understood. 

Innocent. I know I did. 

Denes. ' (To Kapos and Betessey) You see, this 
is the first party Innocent has ever had. 

Innocent. Dinner—with champagne! 

Denes. Horace! 

Irving. Only a little. 

Innocent. And the opera! The music was won¬ 
derful. It got right into my blood. I loved every 
strain of it. And between the acts, when the lights 
were up, the dresses, the jewels, the beautiful wo¬ 
men, the men-! 

Von G. They were staring at you. 

Irving. She didn’t know that. 

Innocent. Oh, but I did! 

Irving. You didn’t show it. 

Innocent. Why should I? 

Von G. Precisely. Why should she? Eh? Why 
shouldn’t she! 

Innocent. It was exquisite—wonderful—no mat¬ 
ter how long I may live I shall never forget to-night. 

Von G. And this is only Budapest. You should 
see a performance in London during the season, or in 
Paris at a great first night, or in Monte Carlo, during 
the Carnival. 

Innocent. I wonder if I ever shall! 



INNOCENT. 


45 


Von G. Of course you will. 

Denes. We mustn’t be too sure. Such things are 
for the rich and the great. 

Innocent. And yet-! 

Denes. What? 

Innocent. Nothing. 

Kapos. (To Betessey) I think it’s time for us 
to go. 


(Innocent is with Irving.) 

Betessey. It is late. 

Kapos. Good nighty Denes. 

Denes. Good night. 

Kapos. You lucky dog! If I were in your place, 
I’d go to the country too! 

Denes. Don’t be absurd! ^ 

Kapos. No wonder you’re willing to give up the 
gay life. I would too, for awhile. 

Denes. Don’t joke on that subject, please. You 
don’t understand. 

Kapos. Of course not. Good night again. 

Betessey. Good night. 

(Irving and Innocent come into the scene.) 

Von G. (To Denes) I’ll stay a little longer if 
you don’t mind. 

Denes. Certainly. (To Irving) What about 
you? 

Irving. I think I’ll move along. Still I’d like to 
stay and hear Von Guggen’s reminiscences. I could 
remind him of one or two he has probably forgotten. 

Von G. I have forgotten nothing! But what is 
p as t—i s past! And what is in the future—is in the 
future. 

Kapos. (To Irving) Come with us to the club. 

Betessey. Do. 

Irving. It’s very kind of you. 




46 


INNOCENT. 


Kapos. And you’ll come- 

Irving. Yes. 

Kapos. Good! 

Betessey. (To Innocent) Till we meet again. 

Kapos. (To Innocent) I was—and remain—• 
delighted to have met you. 

Innocent. Thank you. Good night. (To 
Betessey) Good night. 

Irving. Good night, Innocent! 

Innocent. Good night—Mr. Irving. 

Kapos. Come along. 

Denes. I’ll go to the door with you. 

Kapos. Splendid! I have one or two stories I’m 
sure you haven’t heard. You’ll like them too! Here’s 
one! One day a little stenographer was asked by her 
employer, a man in the railroad world, if she-! 

(Denes, Irving, Kapos and Betessey exeunt. The 
door is closed after them.) 

Von G. This is the moment I have been hoping 
for. You are the most beautiful of all the beings in 
the world! 

Innocent. Mr. Von Guggen! 

Von G. You are, I tell you! Of all the wonder¬ 
ful women at the opera to-night, there was not one who 
with you could be compared. 

Innocent. They were beautiful. 

Von G. Yes. Some with the cold beauty of the 
lily! Some with the delicate beauty of the wild vio¬ 
let ; others w T ith the fragrant beauty of the full blown 
rose. But yours—yours is the beauty that surpasses 
them all—the fascinating beauty of the flower for 
which men travel thousands of miles, through danger¬ 
ous, unknown country, through swamps and forests 
and unexplored rivers, risking the chance of fever— 
yes, even of death in a thousand terrifying forms— 
yours is the beauty of the orchid. 

Innocent. Am I really as beautiful as that? 




INNOCENT. 


47 


Von G. That, and more. Your eyes are deep as 
a crater in which fire burns- 

Innocent. Deep as a crater- 

Von. G. Your skin is like the glossy gardenias 
in the tea houses- 

Innocent. Like the glossy gardenias- 

Von. G. Pleasure, dancing and music are natural 
longings springing from your heart. You are mar¬ 
velously beautiful—marvelously. ( The men laugh 
off stage ) Why did the men all stare at you in the 
theatre to-night—at the restaurant— ! (Innocent 
looks at him ) I was not there, but I know that they 
did. Your dress is simple, your manner modest—then 
why did they stare? Why? 

(There is a pause.') 

Innocent. Tell me. 

Von G. Because nature has bestowed on you the 
greatest gift she can give to a woman—the beauty 
which attracts without design, which compels with¬ 
out effort, which receives without demanding. Of all 
the men who looked at you to-night, was there a single 
one who would not have followed you, had you even so 
much as raised your eyes to him ? Was there ? Eh ? 
There was not and you know it—don’t you? Don’t 
you? (Pause) Of course you do. ( There is an¬ 
other laugh off stage and “ Good ”—“ That is 
funny ”, etc., are heard) Listen! We are born for 
what we are born. I came into the world to be an 
adventurer, an artist among adventurers—you came 
to be-! 

Innocent. What? - (Pause) What? 

Von G. To span the whole octave of life—to have 
power over men. 

Innocent. Like—Carmen? 

Von G. No. Like DuBarry—like Pompadour— 
like Cleopatra. 

Innocent. Like— that? 






48 


INNOCENT. 


Von G. Like that! You were born to be a high 
priestess in one of the most noble temples in the 
world, and to have the greatest in the land offering 
you on bended knees their most precious gifts! And 
you feel it—you know it. That’s true, isn’t it—Eh? 
Isn’t it? ( There is a pause. She moves away. He 
follows her ) This man says he is going to take you 
to the country, which shows that he is a fool! You 
belong to a large city, just as jewels of great value 
belong to the world. You were born for splendor; 
to go about in handsome motors with liveried serv¬ 
ants ; to wear beautiful gowns; to sit in opera 
boxes-! 

Innocent. And have necklaces of diamonds and 
ropes of pearls! 

Von G. That’s it! That’s it—exactly. ( He 

laughs) 

(There is a pause.) 

Innocent. Suppose Denes insists upon my going 
to the country. 

Von G. Dissuade him. 

Innocent. How? 

Von G. Try it and you won’t have to be told the 
way. He’s only—a man! ( There is a pause. 
There is another laugh off stage and “ Good-nights ” 
can he heard) He is coming. Remember what I 
have told you. {He kisses her hand, not passion¬ 
ately ,, but as a tribute from one artist to another) 

(Denes enters.) 

Denes. Just heard some new stories! Funny 
ones, too! 

Von G. That is good! 

Denes. ( To Innocent) Have a nice chat? 

Innocent. Yes. 

Denes. About what? 

Von G. Oh, of Mukden- 






INNOCENT. 


49 


Denes. Mukden? 

Innocent. Yes! and the funny Chinese, and the 
stout Mandarins, and how they sit in their litters, 
and how men run in front and behind them with 
red feather fans! 

(Von G. laughs .) 

Denes. What are you laughing at? 

Von G. At our chat—about the Mandarins—and 
the funny Chinese! She has a wonderful memory 
and learns very quickly. But then—blood will tell. 

Denes. It’s quite late, dear. You’d better say 
good-night to Mr. Von Guggen and go to bed. 

Innocent. Good-night. ( She gives him her 
hand ) 

Von G. Good-night. 

Denes. Sleep well. 

Innocent. Thank you. 

(Innocent goes toward exit, then stops. There is a 
pause .) 


Denes. What is it? 

Innocent. I was thinking of our talk—about 
Mukden, and the Mandarins and the funny Chinese. 

(Innocent exits.) 

Von G. You lucky dog! 

Denes. What do you mean? 

Von G. Why—Innocent, of course! You lucky 
dog!! 

Denes. What are you talking about? 

Von G. About you—and her—living here—alone! 
That's what I’m talking about. 

Denes. Von Guggen! 

Von G. You’re a sly one! You leave Mukden 
and intend to take her to the country, do you? 


50 


INNOCENT. 


You’re like the fellow who stole the Mona Lisa from 
the Louvre. He showed excellent taste; it was the 
best thing there. 

Denes. Have all the people here gone mad! 
What the devil do you mean by talking about this 
child and me? 

Von G. Child! Ha ! 

Denes. She’s a child so far as I am concerned. 
I feel like a father toward her. 

Von G. But, you are not her father—nor even 
her brother. You are a man—that’s all—you are 
just a man. 

Denes. There, speak Europe and civilization! 

Von G. Exactly! We are civilized, and a man 
of your age—why, you are not yet forty—cannot 
live here alone with a beautiful girl to whom he is in 
no way related, without there being gossip and scan¬ 
dal. Many men have tried it—but it can’t be done— 
not even in the country. 

Denes. Yes, that’s civilization! In China it was 
perfectly proper that she should be with me—that 
I should take care of her. We lived under the same 
roof for nearly six months and there wasn’t a sug¬ 
gestion, or even a thought, that there was anything 
wrong about it, but here every one attributes an evil 
motive to me. 

Von G. Because conditions are different. She 
grew up there and every one understood—the matter 
was familiar. Over there a Chinese woman in native 
dress would attract no attention; here the same 
woman would excite both interest and curiosity! In 
India the Lotos flower is common and consequently 
disregarded; here the same flower is considered both 
beautiful and wonderful. The conditions, the sur¬ 
roundings are different. Don’t you see—eh? Don’t 
you? 

Denes. Over there the sex question didn’t enter 
the matter at all, but here every one seems to think 
that my one purpose is to wrong the girl. It’s mon- 


INNOCENT. 


51 


strous! It’s damnable! ( There is a pause. Von 
Guggen smiles ) Do you think I have the slightest 
intention of wronging her? ( There is a pause ) 
Do you? 

Von G. Not the slightest—at present. 

Denes. What do you mean by—at present? 
(There is a pause ) Tell me. I demand it. 

Von G. Very well! She is like a wonderful and 
glorious jewel which has been given into jmur charge 
for safe keeping. Familiarity has accustomed you 
to its possession, and of its value and beauty you 
know nothing— at present. 

Denes. Well? There’s more! Go on! 

Von G. Some day, perhaps quite by accident, 
the glory and value of this jewel will be revealed to 

you and then-! Then you will know the treasure 

that is in your possession and you will want it—for 
your very own. 

Denes. It’s a lie! 

Von G. It is the truth! Why try to deceive our¬ 
selves about such things. We are Europeans, not 
middle-class English! 

Denes. Damn it, I wish I hadn’t come back here. 

Von G. But, you are here. Don’t you see. Eh? 
Don’t you? ( There is a pause. Denes shows his 
perturbation ) And, why be anxious about it? Why 
trouble because the treasure is yours for the taking— 
with no one to question? 

Denes. For God’s sake, keep still, Von Guggen! 
Keep still!! 

Von G. It is only natural that you should be 
impatient, but, why should I not say what I think? 
If I am right I should speak; if I am wrong you can 
laugh at me! ( There is a pause ) But, I’m right 
and you know it. You’ve been here only two days 
and already you have changed and she has changed! 
Already your eyes are open, already you-! 

Denes. Good-night. 

Von G. What? 




52 


INNOCENT. 


Denes. Good-night!! 

Von G. Good-night! (He offers his hand. Denes 
doesn’t take it) Why not? It means nothing. It is 
only a matter of form? (Denes still does not take 
it) Very well. (Von G. goes to exit) Good¬ 
night. 

(Von G. exits. There is a pause. The closing of 
the door is heard. There is a pause. Denes, 
in pantomime, shores his state of mind. He paces 
about and finally puts out the lights with the 
exception of one burning on the desk. He lights 
a cigarette, opens a window and leans out, blow¬ 
ing the smoke of his cigarette in the air. There 
is a long pause. Innocent enters, wearing her 
night robe. She stands on the top of the stairs. 
There''is a pause. She comes on stage silently 
—looks about—then sits down without a sound. 
There is a pause. Denes turns slowly, as if 
drawn by some magnetic object. He sees In¬ 
nocent.) 

Denes. Innocent! (He comes down stage) 

Innocent. How did you know I was here? I 
made no sound—I barely breathed, and yet—you 
knew ? Why ? 

Denes. Never mind that! Why aren’t you in 
your room? 

Innocent. I couldn’t sleep, I’m sure of it! I 
heard the door close and knew he was gone—and so 
—I came. 

Denes. You must go back. 

Innocent. Why? I couldn’t sleep, Denes. It 
would be impossible. 

Denes. But, you’ll take cold. 

(Denes goes up, closes window, and comes down.) 

Innocent. No! The air is so mild, so delightful. 
My window is open, too. 


INNOCENT. 


53 


Denes. The theatre—the people—everything— 
has excited you. Go to bed, dear. It will pass away 
quickly, and then you’ll sleep. 

Innocent. I can’t stay in that room any more. 
The night is different here. 

Denes. Different? 

Innocent. Yes! In Mukden when night came 
everything was dark and silent. Here I see the 
lights. 

Denes. Close the shutters. 

Innocent. I did, but I see them just the same—* 
thousands of them. And then—I hear music. 

Denes. There’s no music now. 

Innocent. I hear it, though. At home when night 
came, I simply went to bed and died—here I live. 
(She sits on the footstool ) Oh, I am so restless—- 
(She shivers ) and so cold. 

(De nes throws a drapery over her.) 

Denes. ( Severely ) You must go to your room, I 
tell you! 

Innocent. Why do you speak to me like that—so 
harshly. Don’t you love me any more? 

Denes. Don’t I-! You mustn’t say such 

things to me. You mustn’t! 

Innocent. Why not? You do love me, don’t 
you? You always said you did. Didn’t you mean it? 

Denes. Certainly I meant it. 

Innocent. Well, don’t you love me now 7 ? (There 
is a pause) If you don’t I shall be dreadfully un¬ 
happy—because there is no one in the world to love 
me now 7 but you—no one. (She begins to cry) 

Denes. Don’t cry, dear, please. (Pause) 
Please. 

Innocent. Then tell me you love me. (Pause) 
Tell me. 

Denes. I do love you. 

Innocent. Really? 



5 4t 


INNOCENT. 


Denes. Of course I do. 

Innocent. Ah! Now I am liappy again. ( She 
nestles close to him. He moves away ) Why do you 
go away? You didn’t before. ( There is a pause) 

Denes. Listen, dear. Things are different now. 

Innocent. Different? 

Denes. Yes. There is a change. 

Innocent. So you have changed too. 

Denes. Why—have you changed? 

Innocent. Yes. I am a stranger to myself. It 
seems as though to-night I had become someone else. 

Denes. Who? 

Innocent. A woman who knows much! ( There 
is a pause ) And how have you changed? 

Denes. I—I-■! I can’t explain. 

Innocent. Oh, but you can. 

Denes. No. 

Innocent. You can! Sit here. (She indicates 
a seat beside her) 

Denes. No. 

Innocent. Please! (Pause) Please! 

Denes. No, I tell you. 

Innocent. Why? (Pause) Can’t you even sit 
beside me any more. (Pause) Of course you can. 
(Pause) Here, Denes— (She indicates the seat) 
just to please me. (Pause) To please me! Come. 
(She takes his hand and draws him to the seat. She 
leans her head on his hand) How warm and nice 
your hand feels. How pleasant it is. It has such a 
soft, gentle touch. (He smells the fragrance of her 
hair) 

Denes. What have you put on your hair? 

Innocent. Perfume! (Pause) Don’t you like 
it? (Pause) Horace bought it for me on the way 
to the opera. He said I was beautiful and should 
always use a little of it—not much—just a little. 

Denes. Horace told you that? 

Innocent. Yes, and other things too! And he 
gave me champagne and said if I were dressed as the 




INNOCENT. 


55 


mother women were, I should be more beautiful than 
any of them. He said—the man I loved would be the 
happiest man in the world. 

Denes. Horace tool Even Horace!! 

Innocent. Is it true? (Pause) Is it? (Pause) 
Do you think the man I love will be very happy! 
(Pause) Do you? 

Denes. I — I- (The ’phone bell rings. 

Denes throws off the spell and answers it. At 
’phone) Yes! (Pause) Who is this speaking? 
(Pause) Von Guggen! What do you want? 
(Pause) No, I wasn’t in bed! (Pause) Yes, she’s 
here. What of it? (Pause) Don’t you laugh at me 
like that. Do you hear—don’t you laugh at me. 
(Pause) Oh, to the devil with you., (He replaces 
5 phone ) 


{There is a pause.) 

Innocent. Do you think he’ll be very happy? 

Denes. You must go to your room—now—at 
once—understand— at once! 

Innocent. Why are you angry with me? Did I 
do wrong to put the perfume on my hair? 

Denes. Oh, it isn’t that! 

Innocent. Then, what is it? (Pause) What? 

(There is a pause.) 

Denes. I shall send you to the country—to-mor¬ 
row—in the morning. 

Innocent. I don’t want to go to the country. 

Denes. Just the same— you must go! 

Innocent. Shall you come too? 

Denes. Shall I come! Shall I-! 

(There is a pause.) 

Innocent. Yes. I shan’t mind it so much—if 
you’re there —with me. And you will be, won’t you? 




56 


INNOCENT. 


(There is a pause. Denes realizes the situation') 
You couldn’t be so cruel as to send me there alone. I 
should die. 


(There is a pause.) 

Denes. You must not stay here a minute longer! 
Go! 

Innocent. Don’t be angry with me, please! Not 
to-night! ( There is a pause) It seems as if I had 
never seen you before—as if we were really meeting 
for the first time—that my life, my real life with you 
were only just beginning! 

Denes. What has come over you? Where do you 
get these ideas? 

Innocent. In my room—a few minutes ago— a 
strange, a wonderful feeling came over me! I real¬ 
ized for the first time that when you had gone to 
bed—there—in the next room to mine—a man would 
be sleeping! 

Denes. Yesterday you were just a child, tired at 
bedtime with your play! Yesterday you hardly knew 
the difference between night and morning! But, 

now-! How do you learn these things? How do 

you learn them? 

Innocent. I don’t have to learn them—I know 
them! ( There is a pause) And I am beautiful—I 
know that, too. ( There is a pause) And you know 
it. Don’t you? Don’t you? 

Denes. Yes. It’s true—you’re beautiful! 

Innocent. And my eyes are as deep as a crater 
in which fire burns. 

Denes. Yes. 

Innocent. And my flesh is like the glossy gar¬ 
denias in the tea houses. 

Denes. Yes. 

Innocent. And pleasure, dancing arid music 
spring from my heart. 

Denes. Yes. 




INNOCENT. 


57 


Innocent. And the man I love will be the happi¬ 
est in the world. 

Denes. Yes, the very happiest! 

Innocent. And I don’t have to go to the country, 
do I? 

Denes. No—you don’t! You don’t! (He takes 
her in his arms ) 

Innocent. I knew it—all the time. 

THE CURTAIN FALLS. 


ACT III. 

Scene same as Act II. 

The trunks have been removed and the room now 
looks prosperous and in good taste. 

The time is morning some months later. It is 
summer and there are flowers about. 

The stage is empty. 

There is a pause. 

The door-bell rings. 

Innocent enters. 

Innocent. ( Calling ) Juliska! Juliska! 

(Juliska enters.) 

Juliska. Yes, Madame. 

Innocent. The bell rang. [[ 



58 


INNOCENT. 


Juliska. Perhaps it is the master. 

Innocent. No. He has his key. ( She looks at 
a wrist watch she wears ) Half past eight! He 
has never been so late before. ( The hell rings ) 
Answer it. 

(Juliska goes to answer hell. There is a pause. 
Von Guggen enters followed hy Juliska who 
exits. Von Guggen looks rather tired. He has 
in fact heen up all night.') 

Von G. Good morning. 

Innocent. You! 

Von G. Exactly. 

Innocent. Well, what’s wrong? 

Von G. Bela! f 

Innocent. Yes? 

Von G. I’ve just come from the Casino. He has 
been playing all night—and is still playing. 

Innocent. Losing? 

Von G. Everything—not only money but— 
strength, life, years ! He plays with all his might, 
w r ith all his energy. It is a passion with him. 
Into each bet he puts his soul. 

Innocent. Well? 

Von G. Once he had over sixty thousand gulden 
—in half an hour he will have nothing. 

Innocent. Nothing? 

Von G. Worse. He will be in debt. 

Innocent. How can that be? 

Von G. When, some ten weeks or so ago, for 
reasons best known to himself he began gambling 
again, luck favored him and for a time he won. 
Later, however, it turned against him and for the 
past month he has lost heavily. 

Innocent. But he told me that lately his luck 
had been neither good nor bad—that he was neither 
losing nor winning. 

Von G. When a gambler tells* you that, be sure 



INNOCENT. 


59 


he is losing. (There is a pause ) Well, the last 
time he played lie left owing the proprietor sixteen 
hundred gulden and he had no more credit. Where 
he got the money he brought last night I do not 
know, but he did get it, and he began to play, very 
cautiously at first, and about one o’clock he was his 
own bank! Baccarat you know. 

Innocent. Well. 

Von G. He landed seven games, one after the 
other. His luck was marvelous and he played it 
to the limit. For a time he simply could not lose 
and each bet he won seemed to inflame him, to make 
him all the more eager for the next. When a great 
gambler is winning he is a man without emotions, 
he is merely a machine directed by a brain! Success 
serves only to give him more poise, more control; 
but Bela—Bela went drunk with it! 

Innocent. You should have forced him to leave. 

Von G. Irving tried it—he begged and im¬ 
plored, told him he had a fortune, but Denes said 
he was going to double it! They almost came to 
blows, but Irving would have had more chance of 
taking a starving dog from a bone! (There is a 
pause ) Well, later on a little lunch was brought in, 
but it was served by a man whom Bela had not seen 
before. I shall never forget the look on Bela’s face 
when he saw him for the first time. The man had 
one eyebrow higher than the other and Denes took 
it for an omen—an omen of bad luck!—A great 
gambler would have stopped immediately—but Bela 
looked at the man and laughed—defiantly—and 
played more recklessly than ever, nearly always on 
the five. Almost from that moment the luck turned! 
Call it what you please, chance, coincidence or any¬ 
thing you like, but such things are. All men who 
play the great games will tell you. 

Innocent. And when you left everything was 
gone ? 


60 


INNOCENT. 


Von G. Not quite—but it will soon be so. It is 
inevitable. 

Innocent. And I have a new dress for the races 
coming this morning. (Von Guggen laughs ) Why 
do you laugh? 

Von G. For no reason! 

Innocent. There must be a reason and—( The 
’phone hell rings.) Excuse me. ( She goes to ’phone. 
At ’phone) Hello! (Pause) Yes. (Pause) He 
is not in just now. (Pause) Tell him who called. 
(Pause) Gottfried! What Gottfried? (Pause) 
Oh, he’ll understand. (Pause) Very well. I’ll tell 
him. Good-bye. (She replaces ’phone. To Von 
Guggen) Another thing. Why have you come to tell 
me this? 

Von G. Because it brings me much nearer to you. 
(He takes her hand) 

Innocent. Please. (She withdraws her hand) 

Von G. To you and what I have been waiting 
for—since the first evening I saw you at the opera 
four months ago. 

Innocent. Yes? 

Von G. I have enough for two wonderful weeks—■ 
that is all, just two! Vienna, Paris, the Riviera 
Express to Nice or Monte Carlo. Together we will 
fly across the country, past the green cypress and the 
waving palms, and I will set you down in a palace 
of a hotel where you can live like a Princess, for 
two glorious, indelible weeks! What do you say ? 
Eh? What do you say? 

Innocent. You are proposing to buy me with a 
railroad ticket on the Riviera Express? 

Von G. No, I am proposing an adventure! 

Innocent. For two weeks! But—after? 

Von G. Before the fortnight is over you will have 
made a conquest worthy even of you. It is certain. 

(Innocent laughs easily.) 

Innocent. No, no, my friend! You must look for 


INNOCENT. 


61 


another partner! If I loved you, of course things 
might be different, but—I don’t. 

Von G. Neither do you love Bela. You have 
never loved him. 

Innocent. Perhaps. 

Von G. And you have known for a month that 
I have stayed here on account of you and that I was 
going to speak to you of this. 

Innocent. I have known it for three months. 

Von G. You could have stopped me had you 
wished. 

Innocent. But I didn’t wish. I was curious. I 
wanted to know exactly how I should feel on receiv¬ 
ing such a proposition. My curiosity is gratified, but 
I’m greatly disappointed—it has neither thrilled nor 
shocked me in the least. 

Von G. Another man in my place would have 
tried to overwhelm you with passion. {He takes her 
arm and holds it tight ) I do not even tell you that 
I love you. {There is a pause ) 

Innocent. Again—please. {She takes her arm 
away ) 

Von G. Just the same—you’ll come. 

Innocent. And what will make me? 

Von G. Poverty. 

Innocent. What a horrid word. 

Von G. Yes, it is cold and penetrating as a 
November morning! It would chill you to the bone. 
Have you seen a butterfly in the early days of spring 
crumple in a belated winter blast? Have you? Eh? 
That would be you. 

Innocent. Oh, no! I should wait for the sum¬ 
mer. 

Von G. You must believe what I have told you. 
There will be no more pleasures for you, no riding- 
in motors, no going to the opera, no drives to the 
races, none of the things which bring joy to your 
life. {There is a pause ) You’ll come, eh? Will 
you? Eh? Will you? {There is a pause ) Here, I 


62 


INNOCENT. 


will show you the kind of an adventurer I am ! A 
night in Vienna, a night in Paris, and when we 
reach our destination you can do as you please. If 
you wish, I will disappear and leave you entirely 
free—free to try your beautiful wings! Now what 
do you say—eh? What do you say? ( There is a 
pause ) You must see that everything is finished 
so far as Bela is concerned. He will not even 
be able to play again and so—! ( The closing of the 

door is heard ) They mustn’t see me. I will go out 
this way—but I shall come back for my answer. (He 
exits. There is a pause ) 

(Bela and Irving enter. Both are in evening dress, 
hut the front of Bela’s is crumpled. Irving is 
not looking very fresh, but Bela is much the 
tvorse of the two. He looks as though he had had 
a nerve-racking night .) 

Innocent. Good morning. 

(Bela doesn’t speak.') 

Irving. Good morning. 

Innocent. This is what might be called arriving 
early. (To Bela) You’re pale as a ghost, deaj*. 
(Bela is silent. To Irving) You’re not nearly so 
bad, but then— you’re generally the same. 

Irving. I don’t play. 

Innocent. I see. You only watch your friends. 
(To Bela and speaking caressingly ) Did you lose 
or win? (There is a pause ) You needn’t answer. I 
see by your face that you lost. But never mind, 
dearie. (She pats his face ) 

Bela. There—there wasn’t much difference— 

either way. I—I played—about even. 

Innocent. That’s good, dear! And now I’ll see 
Juliska about breakfast. 

Irving. Not for me, thank you. 


INNOCENT. 


m 


Bela. Nor me. 

Innocent. Yes, deaT. 

Bela. Really I - 

Innocent. I know best. (Innocent exits. 
'There is a pause) 

(Irving throws himself in a chair, lights a cigarette 
and puts the case on the table. lie stretches 
out his legs and smokes. Bela sits in an easy 
chair, puts his elbows on his knees and holds 
his head in his hands. There is a pause.) 

Bela. If only I hadn’t kept playing the five! 

Irving. ( Gently ) Still dreaming of the game, 
you gambler, you; still seeing the cards and thinking 
of the combinations. ( He goes to Bela) Ah well, 
it was born in you and you can’t help it I suppose. 
( There is a pause ) What are you going to do? 

Bela. I don’t know! ( Savagely ) Oh, why 
didn’t you stop me when I was winner; why didn’t 
you stop me! 

Irving. I did my best. 

Bela. You should have taken me away! You’re 
no friend! If you were, when 1 had all that money 
in front of me—heaps of it, heaps—no matter what 
I said or did you would have dragged me from the 
table. But you didn’t! You let me stay and lose 
it—lose it all—every thing. A friend! You a 
friend! 

Irving. ( Softly ) Bela—( Pause) Bela—( There 
is a pause) 

Bela. You’re right. You did your best. 

Irving. When you were so much ahead why 
didn’t you pay the proprietor what you owed him? 

Bela. I was afraid. 

Irving. Afraid? 

Bela. Yes. Afraid to give him my lucky money. 

Irving. I see. (Pause) What have you left? 

Bela. Nothing. 



64 


INNOCENT. 


Irving. This place? 

Bela. Mortgaged to the top of the chimney'. 
(Pause) I’m selling the farm too. 

Irving. I wouldn’t do that. 

Bela. I must. I’ve already had an advance on 
it from the agent. 

Irving. The money you lost last night? 

(Bela nods.) 

Bela. He said he had a customer and was likely 
to close the deal at any time. It won’t be much, 
probabty four thousand or so. 

Irving. What are you going to do? (Bela in 
pantomime shows that he doesn’t know) We must 
look this in the face. How are you going to live? 
(Pause) And what of—Innocent? (Pause) What 
are you going to do with her? (Pause) What? 

Bela. You— mean? 

Irving. Won’t you have to—give her up. 

Bela. Give up Innocent! Let her—leave me? 

Irving. Yes. 

Bela. I can’t—I won’t. 

Irving. I’m afraid you’ll have to. 

Bela. I won’t I tell you! Life without her 
would be empty—nothing! I love her! I worship 
her. I want her to be looked at and admired; I 
want her to wear the handsomest gowns and the 
prettiest hats; I want her to have beautiful jewels— 
to be perfect from head to foot; I want other women 
to be envious of her and other men to be jealous of 
me; when I appear with her in cafes, at the races, 
at the theatre, I want all the other women to pale 
before her and all the other men to gaze lovingly at 
her while I thrill, and burn and exult with the thought 
—“She belongs to me! You can look, you can ad¬ 
mire, you can envy, but she’s mine. She’s mine.” 

Irving. And to get her the dresses, and the hats 
and the jewels, you have become — what you are. 


INNOCENT. 


65 


Bela. Yes, and it’s worth it—for I know that 
whenever I return here I shall find her, that she’ll 
smile at me, and caress me, and lay her head on my 
shoulder and that nothing in the world matters but 
that—nothing. 

Irving. But she is ruining you, body and soul! 
And you know it! Don’t you? 

Bela. No! I don’t. 

Irving. You do! And, though you may re¬ 
fuse to acknowledge it even to yourself, down deep 
in your heart you know that when you can’t give 
her the things you have mentioned—she’ll leave you 
and get them somewhere else. 

Bela. It’s a lie! 

Irving. It’s the truth. ( There is a pause ) 

Bela. ( Weakly ) My luck will turn. I’ll get 

them for her. 

Irving. In what way? You have no position, no 
money, no credit; j r ou won’t even be able to play 
cards any more; you are ruined already! How can 
you get these things. How? 

Bela. I will. You’ll see. 

Irving. Wake up, Bela; for God’s sake, wake 
up! You’re asleep, or what is worse, you are blind. 
You can’t get them honorably and you know it. 
(There is a pause ) Come to China with me! Mc¬ 
Cormick was right, I couldn’t be satisfied with Eng¬ 
land so I’m going back into the Chinese service. 
I’ll get you a position and everything I have I’ll share 
with you. You can begin life again and make a suc¬ 
cess of it. I’m leaving to-morrow. Come with me. 

Bela. I can’t! I know what you say is true 
and I want to go but—I can’t—leave—her. 

Irving. Of 'course you can. Where is your 
strength of mind? 

Bela. It’s gone. I have none. 

Irving. Bela. 

Bela. It’s true. She’s absorbed it. She’s taken 
it from me as a sponge takes water from a bowl! 


INNOCENT. 


66 

Once in order to get away—without her knowing— 
I packed my things at night—and just as I was 
ready to go—she stirred in the next room—and I 
heard her ^breathe—and the picture of her, lying 
there, came to me—and I didn’t go—it was impos¬ 
sible. I couldn’t have gone to save mv soul from 
hell. 

Irving. That’s madness. 

Bela. Yes, that’s just what it is—madness! 
And do you know who I feel constantly urging me 
on—her father. 

Irving. My dear chap, you must-! 

Bela. Her father! He’ll stare at me from a 
mirror—he’ll appear in the smoke of a cigar--—he’ll 
spring suddenly from nowhere—and always he’ll 
point his finger at me and laugh! Last night he 
came into the room with that new waiter and sat 
behind me. It was he ^ho told me to bet on the 
five! (He starts') Look! Look! There he is in 
the mirror now. Don’t you see him pointing at me? 
Don’t you hear him laugh? (Bela laughs ) He’s 
laughing at me. 

Irving. Bela! Bela!! 

Bela. But he shan’t do it. I’ll show him. (He 
goes toward mirror ) I’ll show you that you can’t— 
that—that— (He turns') He’s gone. Ah, there he 
is—going into that room. (He points to the door 
where Innocent made her exit ) You can’t get 
away from me like that! (He starts to cross. 
Irving tries to detain him ) 

Irving. For God’s sake, Bela! (Bela gets 
away from Irving and, goes to the door ) Come out, 
damn you, come out! (Bela stands before the 
door with fist upraised. The door opens and Inno¬ 
cent appears ) And I’ll—I’ll— (There is a pause. 
Bela looks at Innocent and slowly lowers his arm) 

Innocent. What is it, dear? What’s the matter? 
(There is a pause ) 




INNOCENT. 


67 


(Bela draws his hand across his brow as though 
to brush memories away.) 

Irving. He’s had a bad night. He’s nervous— 
excited. 

Innocent. I understand! Come, sweetheart. 
(She takes his hand and leads him to a seat as though 
he were a little child being taken to bed) Sit here, 
dear. (He sits down) What a collar! (She takes 
off his collar and tie) That’s better! (She rubs his 
throat a little and then his head. Very gently. lie 
sighs his content) And now I’ll get you your dress¬ 
ing-gown. (Innocent exits to Bela’s room. There 
is a pause) 

Irving. And that is worth everything to you! 

Bela. Everything! Does life hold anything 
better? Heroes, poets, kings, beggars, all struggle, 
fight, conquer and strive, if only a woman is good to 
them. (There is a pause) 

(Innocent re-enters with Bela’s dressing-gown.) 

Innocent. Here we are! Take off that black 
coat; it looks as though you were going to a funeral. 
(Bela takes off his coat) Now for this comfortable 
old tiling. (She helps him on with the dressing- 
gown) And now, sit down again. (She seats him in 
the armchair and makes him comfortable) There. 
(She stands beside him and strokes his hair. Bela 
takes her hand and kisses it) 

Bela. How good it feels to be like this—so 
restful and quiet. (There is a pause) 

(Irving looks at Bela and Innocent.) 

Irving. I’m leaving for Manchuria to-morjow. 

Bela. You’ve decided definitely on to-morrow. 

Irving. Yes. 

Bela. I’m sorry. 


68 


INNOCENT. 


Irving. So am I. 

Innocent. Greet the little streets for me; the lit¬ 
tle houses, the eentury-old doors, with the market 
stands in front of them; the queer little apothecary; 
the whole dusty, pig-tailed people. Tell them that 
I am no longer little Innocent, that I am quite a 
wonderful lady now, and that I am going to the 
races this afternoon! 

Bela. ( Tired—with eyes closed ) And that I 

am going to lose my friend. 

Irving. I must go. There’s nothing to keep me. 

Innocent. Then let’s drink a little glass of 
Malaga on parting. ( She gets the wine, three glasses 
and a dish of figs ) I don’t quite know how I came 
to like this wine. I don’t really drink it, I simply 
moisten my lips with it. But I love to look at it and 
smell it. (She pours out a glass for each, lifts her 
own to her nose and smells it in practically the same 
way that her father did. To Irving) Would you 
like something very good indeed? (She sticks a fork 
into a fig, puts it into the wine and holds the glass 
in the sunlight which streams in from the window ) 
Look! There is nothing more beautiful than these 
colors. They are more glorious than the evening 
sky. They are like yellow flowers in the spring, like 
bull-rushes swaying in the wind; like gold brown 
eyes. 

(Bela, who has been sitting back, at this sits up .) 

Bela. (To Irving) Did you hear? 

Irving. Yes. 

Bela. (To Innocent) Where did you learn 
that ? 

Innocent. It came of itself, just as love comes 
of a summer evening. 

Bela. Hadn’t you heard it before? 

Innocent. Not that I remember. Prosit young 
ones. (They clink their glasses. Bela drinks his 


INNOCENT. 


69 


’wine . Innocent sips a little of hers. Irving does 
not drink. To Irving) Aren’t you going to drink 
with us? 

Irving. No, thank you. I don’t like it. .. 

Innocent. I’m sorry. (To Bela) Oh, some 
one called you on the telephone. 

Bela. Who? 

Innocent. He said his name was Gottfried. Do 
you know him? 

Bela. Yes. I’ll call him later. 

(Juliska enters.) 

Juliska. The dressmaker has, sent your gown. 

Innocent. Oh, splendid! Take it to my room. 
(Juliska exits. To Bela) I’ll put it on just for 
you. In a few minutes you’ll be so proud of me. 
(Bela takes her hand affectionately. To Irving) 
I hope yoii 11 admire me too, although you don’t seem 
to like me very much to-day. ( To Bela) A few 
minutes and then you’ll see. (She kisses Bela 
lightly, puts the fig between her teeth and exits. 
There is a pause) 

Bela. Do you wonder I adore her? Isn’t she 
delightful and charming? ( Pause ) Isn’t she? 

Irving. Yes, she is! And couldn’t her father be 
delightful and charming too! (Pause) Well? 

Bela. What ? 

Irving. Have you made up your mind? 

Bela. Yes. While I was sitting there I was 
thinking and I’ve decided. 

Irving. You’re coming with me. 

Bela. No. I am going to marry Innocent. 

Irving. Marry Innocent! 

Bela. Yes. 

Irving. It’s impossible. 

Bela. Why? 

Irving. How would you live? (Pause) Well, 
how? 


INNOCENT. 


70 

Bela. I'll find a way. 

Irving. Bela, I’m your friend. You know it, 
don’t you? 

Bela. Of course. 

Irving. Well, as your friend, as one who has. 
only your welfare and happiness at heart, I ask you, 
I beg you, to put all thought of marrying Innocent 
away from you—absolutely. 

Bela. What have you against her? Don’t you 
think she is—true to me? 

Irving. I know she is. There has been no reason 
for her to be otherwise. 

Bela. Reason! What do you mean? Tell me. 

Irving. It’s a foolish thing to do—I know It—* 
but I will tell you. 

Bela. Well? 

Irving. So far as desiring the things of this 
world is concerned, Innocent will never go back' 
ward—she is bound to go forward. 

Bela. Bound? 

Irving. Yes. The luxuries of yesterday will be- 
come the necessities of to-day and the things she 
thinks wonderful to-morrow in a month will be 
ordinary and commonplace. Hasn’t this been so ever 
since you came here? Didn’t you begin gambling 
again in the hope of getting her the things you knew 
you couldn’t legitimately afford? What does she 
think now of articles that would have delighted her 
three months ago? Gowns, the price of which would 
have terrified her then, she orders now without even 
a thought. Is that true or isn’t it? 

Bela. It will be different when we’re married. 

Irving. I see. You think the ceremony will com¬ 
pletely change her nature! Is that it? 

Bela. No. It isn’t that—but-! 

Irving. What? 

Bela. Oh, things will be different I tell you. 
She’ll be my wife then, and I can introduce her into 
another circle. 



INNOCENT. 


71 


Irving. And will that make her satisfied to be 
<dowdv. Will it make her any the less anxious to dis¬ 
play her beauty to the best advantage? 

Bela. She’ll be my wife, and I can explain mat¬ 
ters and she’ll understand and do as I wish. 

Irving. If you honestly think that, I have nothing 
more to say! (Pause) Do vou think it? 

Bela. Well I-- ! 

Irving. You don’t 1 You know you don’t! You’re 
trying to deceive yourself, to hypnotize yourself into 
believing what you want to believe. 

Bela. Just the same I shall marry her. My 
mind is made up. 

Irving. I’m sorry. 

Bela. We’ll be happy, too. We’ll get along all 
right. Things are different when you’re married. 

Irving. Are you sure she'll marry you? 

Bela. Of course I am. Aren’t you? 

Irving. No. 

Bela. What? 

Irving. In fact I’m sure she won’t. I’ve been 
trying to save you the pain of finding it out. 

Eel a. Why won’t she marry me? 

Irving. Because it won’t be to her advantage. 

Bela. You shan’t speak of her like that to me. 
Do you hear! You shan’t do it. 

Irving. Very well, we’ll say no more about it. 
A wise man once wrote “No woman is worth the 
friendship of two men ” and he was right. 

Bela. “ Not to her advantage! ” What did you 
mean? 

Irving. Please. 

Bela. You think she’ll leave me for a more 
prosperous man, but she won t, she loves me. Even 
when I come home at this hour, don’t you see how 
affectionate she is? (There is a pause) I shall 
marry her and begin a new life, and work hard and 
make a success. (Irving sighs and shakes his head) 



72 


INNOCENT. 


Why do you do that? I made a success in China, 
didn’t I? 

Irving. She wasn’t in your life at that time. 

Bela. But she is now and that’s all the more 
reason for me to work and succeed. 

Irving. And, granting that she will marry you, 
what then? 

Bela. There’s still the money from the farm. 
Gottfried may have some news for me. 

Irving. The man Innocent said ’phoned you? 

Bela. Yes. I’ll see. (He goes to ’phone ) Hello! 
Give me seven thirteen! Yes, seven thirteen! 
(Pause') Hello! Is this Gottfried and Bauer. I 
want to speak to Mr. Gottfried please. (Pause) 
That you, Gottfried? This is Bela. Any news 
for me. (Pause) That's good. (Pause) What! 
only three thousand gulden ! I expected at least four! 
(Pause) Wants a bargain doesn’t he. (Pause) I 
don’t know; it’s too cheap. (Pause) If you’re sure 
you can’t do any better— (Pause) Yes, I suppose so 
— (Pause) All right, let it go. (Pause) Yes, close 
it up at once. (Pause) In half an hour— (Pause) 
Very well, I’ll be there. Good-bye. (He replaces 
3 phone) He has a purchaser and I’ll get three thou¬ 
sand gulden. It isn’t much but it’s better than notli- 
ing. 

Irving. You owe sixteen hundred. That leaves 
you twenty-four hundred. 

Bela l Yes. 

Irving. And on it you’re going to begin a new life. 

Bela. Yes, I am. 

Irving. Again. 

Bela. This is only the fourth time I’ve begun 
a new life, and in a way it appeals to me. It’s like 
calling for a new deck. Luck sometimes turns with 
fresh cards and perhaps it will turn for me. (He 
goes to Irving and puts his arm over his shoulder 
affectionately) And don’t look so glum. Every¬ 
thing is going to turn out all right this time. (He 



'INNOCENT. 


73 


shakes Irving affectionately ) And don’t worry 
about Innocent! She’s young and naturally likes 
pretty things, but she loves me and we’ll get along 
some way ! See this—( He fills the wine glass with 
water and holds it up) Water has a hundred dif¬ 
ferent colors too,-even clearer and more brilliant than 
those of the wine. {He puts the glass down) You 
understand, don’t you? 

Irving. Yes! I understand. 

Bela. Good! And you’ll find-! 

(Innocent enters wearing the new gown.) 

Innocent. Well, gentlemen, what do you think 
of it? 

Bela. Charming! Beautiful! 

Innocent. That’s what I think too. ( She turns 
to the mirror and waves her hand) My dear young 
lady, I am perfectly delighted with you. 

(She goes to the mirror and looks at herself. Dur¬ 
ing the scenes she adjusts and rearranges the 
gown in a feminine way.) 

Bela. Innocent! 

Innocent. Yes. 

Bela. *1 have something to say to you. 

Innocent. Well? ( Referring to dress) I just 
love this color. 

Bela. I’m going to marry you. 

Innocent. (Still at glass) Are you? When? 

Bela. This afternoon! or to-morrow! Which¬ 
ever you say. 

Innocent. It doesn’t matter. (She smoothes out 
a wrinkle) 

Bela. Aren’t you happy over it? 

Innocent. Of course I am. I hope we have a 
lovely honeymoon. I’d like Monte Carlo or Nice! 
(There is a pause) This dress will help out with the 



74 


INNOCENT. 


trousseau, won’t it! ( She turns to Bela) By the 
way, dear, the girl from the dressmaker’s is waiting 
for the money. It r s three hundred and seventy-five 
gulden. 

Bela. Three hundred and seventy-five. 

Innocent. Yes. 

Irving. ( To Bela) There's the answer to your 
riddle. 

Innocent. What riddle? 

Bela. It was nothing. 

Innocent. Haven’t you got the money? 

Bela. Certainly! But not here. 

Innocent. A check will do. 

Bela. I’d rather give you cash! Have the girl 
wait. I’ll get the money and bring it to you. (Bela 
goes to his room, avoiding looking at Innocent as 
he goes ) 

Innocent. Did he lose everything last night? 

Irving. Everything. 

Innocent. You mean he has nothing left? 

Irving. At this moment he hasn’t the price of a 
meal at a restaurant. 

Innocent. Then how will he get the money for 
the dress? 

Irving. It will be part of what he has left from 
the sale of his farm—the last asset he has in the 
world. 

Innocent. Then he is ruined. 

Irving. Absolutely. ( There is a pause') Inno¬ 
cent, I knew your father when you were a tiny child 
in the white colony at Mukden. Now we are both 
older and wiser and have our eyes open. Shall we 
speak frankly to each other? 

Innocent. Yes. 

Irving. Leave this house, leave Bela. It is the 
only thing to do. I’ll help you. 

Innocent. Do you expect to go with me? 

Irving. Certainly not! (Pause) You’ll do it? 


INNOCENT. 


75 


Innocent. It seems the easiest thing. And yet I 
don’t like to hurt him. He’s been very good to me. 

Irving. It’s the only way to save him. If you 
stay, he stays and the end for him is either jail or 
the gutter. If you go I can persuade him to come 
with me. It’s for his good as well as yours. 

Innocent. Oh, why didn’t you drag him from the 
table last night when he had more than sixty thousand 
gulden in front of him. 

Irving. Who has been here? Who told you that? 

Innocent. No one. 

Irving. Then how did you know? 

Innocent. I didn't know. I guessed! And now 
I see I was right. 

Irving. Anyway he has nothing, and you can’t 
live a life of drudgery and poverty, can you? ( There 
is a pause ) Leave him, this afternoon, and I’ll give 
you money enough to take you anywhere you please 
and to keep you in comfort for at least two or three 
montjis ! ( There is a pause ) Well? 

Innocent. There’s nothing else. 

Irving. And you’ll go. 

Innocent. Yes. 

Irving. Good. (Irving takes out his pocket- 
book, takes a check from it, writes on it and gives 
it to Innocent) This afternoon, remember. 

Innocent. Yes. ( There is a pause ) I wish I 
didn’t have to—really I do! Bela loves me and-- 

(Bela re-enters dressed for the street. He speaks 
with enforced gaiety .) 

Bela. {To Irving) Come along. I’ll go to 
Gottfried’s and you can go to your hotel for some 
rest. You need it. 

Irving. Very well! Good-bye, Innocent. 

Innocent. Good-bye, Horace. 

Bela. It isn’t far dear and I shan’t be long. 
Have the girl wait. 



76- 


INNOCENT. 


f 


Innocent. Very well. 

Bela. Good-bye. (He hisses her) 
Innocent. Good-bye. 


(Bela and Irving exeunt. There is a pause. In¬ 
nocent stands still as if pondering over some¬ 
thing. Juliska enters and starts to tidy the 
room. Innocent exits to her room. Juliska 
continues her 7cork, putting things to rights, 
placing the wine glasses, etc., in their proper 
places. There is a pause. Von Guggen enters 
from the entrance where he made his exit. He 
gives money to Juliska.) 


Von G. Where’s your mistress? 

Juliska. There. 

f 

(Juliska points to Innocent’s room and exits. Von 
Guggen goes to Innocent’s door and calls.) 


Von G. Innocent! Innocent! (Innocent enters 
with hat and gloves) Going to the races? 

Innocent. Perhaps! How do you like my gown? 

Von G. Superb. 

Innocent. It cost three hundred and seventy-five 
gulden and the girl is waiting for the money. Will 
you pay for it? 

Von G. Certainly. 


(Von Guggen’s promptness rather surprises Inno¬ 
cent and she watches him. He takes out his 
pocket-hook, takes some money from it and hands 
it to Innocent. She counts it.) 

Innocent. It’s too much. 

Von G. Tell the girl to keep the change. 

Innocent. No. This is enough. (She keeps one 
hill and offers the others to Von Guggen, who holds 


INNOCENT. 


77 


up his hand as if he does not wish to take it) Please. 

Von G. Just as you say. 

(Innocent rings bell. Juliska enters.) 

Innocent. Give this to the girl and take a re¬ 
ceipt. ( She gives money to Juliska who exits) 

Von G. I saw them leave hut came in that way 
for fear one of them might be watching. When do 
we start. Eh? When? 

Innocent. I haven’t promised, and I don’t know 
that I shall come. 

Von G. Of course not! But that doesn’t matter. 

Innocent. After all there’s something about you 
that I like! (Von Guggen bows) A certain air of 
bravado, of recklessness-! 

Von G. I am glad that it appeals to you. 

Innocent. Don’t think for a minute that I’m in 
love with you. 

Von G. 1 do not wish you to be. Love is a heavy 
piece jof baggage, which no experienced traveler 
carries. ( There is a pause) I shall have a motor 
waiting in front of the next house down the street. 
My things are ready. If it should trouble you, never 
mind about yours. 

Innocent. I haven’t promised remember. 

Von G. You will come! Just before you leave, as 
a signal that all is ready, pull down the shade there. 
{He indicates the shade) Then I shall know that 

it is time to-! (Irving enters) Hello! How 

did you get in? 

Irving. I still have my kej^. {He holds up a hey) 

Innocent. I thought that you were going to the 
hotel to rest. 

Irving. I remembered that my cigarette case was 
here and as I wished for a smoke and have few of mv 
favorite brand left, I came to get it. {He opens case 
and offers cigarette to Von Guggen) Will you try 




7S 


INNOCENT. 


(Von Guggen takes cigarette and lights it.') 

Von G. Thanks. 

Irving. These are Pyramios! We smoked them 
In Manchuria. Don’t you remember? 

Von G. No. I can’t say that I do. 

Irving. Strange. I thought that you might. 

Innocent. So you were watching. 

Irving. Yes. I wished to see if I could find you 
together—your friend who told you this morning, and 
you. 

Von G. And have you anything to say against it? 

Irving. Personally, nothing! But Bela trusted 
you. Evidently you have no consideration for such 
confidence. 

Von G. Not'the slightest. 

Irving. Nor for friendship. 

Von G. For friendship, yes! But at present I 
have only one friend. I have the greatest considera¬ 
tion possible for him. He is—myself. 

Irving. At any rate Bela trusted you. ( Refer¬ 
ring to Innocent) Just as he based his future on 
this whisp of straw. 

Innocent. Didn’t you say less than half an hour 
ago that I should leave Bela. 

Von G. Certainly. He wished you to go with him. 

Irving. That’s enough. Is this the way you re¬ 
pay my consideration—my forbearance! You seem 
to forget that it was I who saved you when you stole 
that jeweled clasp from the slipper of the Statue of 
Buddha. 

Innocent. You did that. 

Von G. And why not? I am a philosopher as 
well as an adventurer and I believe that things are 
put into this w^orld to be used where they can do the 
most good and I am quite sure the jewel would have 
been much more useful to me than it could possibly 
have been to the statue. Buddha is dead. I am 
alive. 


INNOCENT. 


79 


Irving. I should have had you jailed but I let 
you go free. I did not wish the Chinese to know that 
a white man, a friend of the Consul, could be guilty 
of such a thing. 

Von G. For what you did for me I thank you. 
But that is in the past and is no concern of the 
present. 

Irving. (To Innocent) Are you going away 
with this man? 

Innocent. I have not decided. 

Von G. I have. She is coming. 

Irving. (To Innocent) Then of course you 
will not need the check I gave you. 

Von G. What check? 

Innocent. He wished me to leave Bela and gave 
me a check to carry me along till I found some 
one else. 

Von G. Good. You have found me. 

Irving. No indeed. The check was given for a 
very different purpose. 

Von G. I do not see it. 

Irving. I do! (He extends his hand to Inno¬ 
cent as if asking for the check ) 

Innocent. Just a minute please. 

Irving. Well? 

Innocent. All you wanted was that I should 
leave Bela. That was it, wasn’t it? 

Irving. Yes. 

Innocent. Well, what difference does it make to 
you whether I go alone—or with him or with any 
man—so long as I go. 

Von G. Exactly. 

Irving. It makes this difference—I object to 
being done. 

Innocent. Done? 

Irving. Yes—especially by him. 

(Bela appears at hack, unseen by others. VoN 
Guggen crosses to Irving.) 


8C* 


INNOCENT. 


Von G. Will you oblige me by being a little more 
explicit? 

Irving. I think my words were sufficiently plain. 

Von G. Perhaps I did not understand. Would 
you oblige me by repeating them? 

Irving. Certainly. I object to being done—- 
especially*- 1 

Bela. Hello-—what’s the matter? (There is a 

pause ) What is it? ( Pause ) Well? 

Von G. I came to get your permission to take 
Innocent to the races and found him here trying to 
induce her to leave you and go with him. 

Bela. What! 

Irving. It’s a lie. 

Von G. It’s the truth. Ask her. 

Bela. (To Innocent) Is it? 

Innocent. He’s your friend dear. 

Bela. Never mind that. Tell me. Did he do 
as Von Guggen says? 

Innocent. Yes, he did. 

Irving. I didn’t! You can’t believe such a thing 
of me. You can’t. 

Innocent. He told me that you were ruined, and 
he said we would have to live in poverty, and he 
begged me to leave you and gave me a check to pay my 
expenses. I took it from him so that I might prove the 
kind of man he is m case he ever tried to turn you 
against me. (She aives check to Bela. He looks 
at it) 

(There is a pause.) 

Bela. (To Irving) Well? (There is a pause) 
Well? 

(There is a pause.) 

Irving. Listen, Bela! 

Bela. Did you give her this check or didn’t 
you? (There is a pause) Answer. 



INNOCENT. 


81 


Irving. Yes, I did! But- 

Bela. Why? ( There is a pause ) To induce 

her to leave me? 

Irving. If you’ll listen for just a moment, 
I’ll-! 

Bela. To induce her to leave me! Yes or no! 

Irving. I can explain it if you’ll only-! 

Bela. Yes or no ! 

Irving. Yes. But on my word of honor I didn’t 
intend to go with her. 

(Von G. laughs .) 

Von G. Of course he did! Of all the men I know 
you’re the only one who hasn’t realized that he’s in 
love with her. 

Irving. You liar! (To Bela) You can’t be¬ 
lieve this man. He’s a thief—— 

Innocent. I’m not and I say he speaks the truth. 

Irving. And I say he lies! 

Von G. It is his word against her’s—and the 
check. 

Innocent. (To Bela) Which do you believe? 

Irving. Bela! 


/- (There is a pause .) 

Bela. (To Irving) Get out! 

Irving. Bela! 

Bela. I see many things now, among them why 
you wanted me to leave her. Get out. 

Irving. But I pledge you my word that--! 

Bela. Go ! (He tears up the check ) Go! Do 
you hear! Go ! 


(There is a pause .) 

I 

Irving. Very well. Good-bye! But some day 
you’ll realize how wrong you are. (Irving exits) 







82 


INNOCENT. 


(There is a pause.') 

Innocent. Dear. ( She goes to hint. He takes 
her in his arms ) 

(There is a pause.) 

Von G. I hope that I acted for the best. 

Bela. You did, and I thank you. 

Von G. I am more than repaid! Innocent has 
told me she has changed her mind about going to the 
races, but I have a friend who has given me the use 
of his motor. Have I your permission to take her for 
a drive instead? 

Bela. If she wishes. 

Von G. ( To Innocent) You will come? 

Innocent. I don’t think so. 

Von G. Perhaps you will change your mind. If 
you do and decide to come you will let me know? 

Innocent. Yes. If I decide to come I will let 
you know. 

Von G. Then I shall be waiting. Good-bye for 
the present. 

Innocent. Good-bye. 

Von G. Good-bye, Bela ! 

Bela. Good-bye and thank you again. 

(Von G. hows to Bela and Innocent and exits. 

There is a pause.) 

Bela. Who would have thought it—of Horace. 

Innocent. I know how it must hurt you. 

Bela. I’ve no one left now—but you. Thank 
God you are still true to me. 

Innocent. Sweetheart! 

Bela. I could bear anything in the w T orld except 
to be deceived by you. 

Innocent. And I could bear anything except for 
you to stop loving me. 


INNOCENT. 


83 


Bela. Stop loving you! Stop loving you! (He 
takes her in his arms and kisses her passionately . 
There is a pause) Listen, sweetheart. It’s true what 
Horace said—I have nothing left but sixteen hundred 
corona out of which—! I forgot, that girl’s waiting. 

Innocent. Never mind, dear. I’ll return the 
dress in a little while and send her away. 

Bela. I wish you could keep it. 

Innocent. But I can’t. We’re poor now and I 
must do my share. 

Bela. Innocent- t 

Innocent. Of course I must. You’ve done every¬ 
thing for me. I’ve done nothing for you. 

Bela. Nothing! You’ve made me the happiest 
man in the world. 

Innocent. Really. 

Bela. The very happiest. I didn’t know there 
could he such joy. 

Innocent. I’m glad! ( She nestles closer to him) 
Kiss me again dear—as though it were for the first 
time or as if you were bidding me “ Farewell ” for 
ever. (He kisses her) 

Bela. My dear Innocent! My own little girl! 
You’re still mine. You’re still mine! 

Innocent. Yes. I’m still yours. 

Bela. And nothing else matters. 

Innocent. Nothing. 

(There is a pause.) 

Bela. We’ll begin everything anew! We’ll be 
married and go away from the life here, from the city 
and its temptations, which I’m too weak to resist. 

Innocent. Dear. 

Bela. I am. I know it! But I still have some 
good friends in the Ministry at Ackerban, and I’ll get 
a position in some foreign country and there we’ll 
settle down and I’ll work hard and make a success of 
life. You’ll be proud of me yet. 



INNOCENT. 


84 

Innocent. I’ve never doubted it. 

\ 

(There is a pause.) 

Bela. I’m so tired. 

Innocent. You must be dear. The strain of last 
night and no rest since! Come and lie down— here. 
(She leads him to the couch. He lies down. She 
makes him comfortable and sits beside him ) Now 
go to sleep dear, and remember that your own little 
Innocent is here by your side. 

Bela. As she is going to be always. 

Innocent. Yes, dear. 

Bela. That’s all I want. (Drowsiness begins to 
creep over Bela) 

Innocent. Yesterday the ship which brought us 
from Trieste landed here again. Let us go away in 
her and I will sit by you on the deck and sing to you. 

Bela. Where shall we go? 

Innocent. Wherever the ship takes us. 

Bela. How wonderful you are! What a shame 
I shan’t be able to give you the beautiful things you 
deserve. I’d like to give you- 

Innocent. Ssh! Ssh! You must sleep dear. 
(There is a pause ) In the country or in the village 
where we shall live I shan’t need pretty clothes. I 
shall probably be the only fine lady there! And 
think what a happy life it will be; to wander in the 
woods among the whispering trees, just the fresh 
green grass around us and peace and joy in our 
hearts! (Bela sighs contentedly as if just dropping 
off to sleep. There is a pause. Innocent looks at 
him and then speaks as if she were leaving the 
decision to the fates ) Shall I leave you now? Or 
shall I stay with you? (Pause) Tell me. (Pause) 
Tell me. 


(There is a pause.) 



INNOCENT. 


85 


I3ela. ( Drowsily ) The sunshine dazzles me. 
Full down the shade please. 

{There is a pause.) 

Innocent. The shade? 

Bela. Yes, deaT. 

Innocent. You want me to pull it down? 

Bela. Yes, dear. 

Innocent. You are quite sure. 

{There is a pause.) 

Bela. Yes, dear. Please. 

Innocent. Very well. (Innocent pulls down 
the shade and the stage darkens. She goes again to 
Bela) 

Bela. What was that little Chinese song you 
used to sing? 

Innocent. The Tona Bungalay? 

Bela. Yes. Sing it now—very softly—and I 
know I shall sleep. 

Innocent. Yes, dear. (Innocent sits beside 
him and sings to him as though he were a child going 
to sleep. When she has finished she rises gently and 
puts on the hat she brought on , earlier in the act. 
She looks at Bela pityingly, almost tenderly, then 
exits quietly ) 


{There is a pause.) 

CURTAIN ON ACT III. 



86 


INNOCENT. 


• f 


ACT IV. 

Scene: — Private dining room in a restaurant in Nice. 
Time: — Evening. Some months later. 

Discovered:- — The second waiter busy at the 
table. 

There is a brief pause. 

First Waiter enters. 

During the scene they busy themselves about the 
room. 

1st Waiter. Everything—eet is ready? 

2nd Waiter. Yes. Everything. 

1st Waiter. Good. His Excellency will be here 
now at any mineet. 

2nd Waiter. I wonder eef it is the same lady— 
eh? 

1st Waiter. Of course. He has not been wiz 
any other lady since he first came wi% her—how long 
eez eet ago? 

2nd Waiter. More than two months. 

1st Waiter. That is right! And why should he 
come with any other? Madame is beautiful! 
Y oung! Exquiseet! 

2nd Waiter. And His Excellency—he is fine too 
— Eh? 

1st Waiter. A wise man! He has seen every¬ 
thing that there is in life—and he has learned. He 
knows just what to say and what to do and when to 
say and how to do eet? 

2nd Waiter. And there is no one more generous. 

1st Waiter. Why not ? He is reech—very reech 
*—and—he knows! To wait on some men—eet eez 


INNOCENT. 


87 


degrading to wait on such a man as His Excellency 

eet eez a pleasure. He was born for such things ! 

2nd W aiter. Eef all our guests were like His 
Excellency, life would be so much-! 

1st Waiter. (W arningly) Sshl They are com- 
ing! 

(They draw themselves up and stand stiffly behind 
the chairs at the table. There is a pause .) 

1st Waiter. Perhaps there eez something I can 
do. (He goes to door, looks off and sees them coming. 
He stays at the door bowing) 

(His Excellency and Innocent enter, both in even¬ 
ing dress. Innocent is wonderfully gowned 
and wears exquisite jewels. She has gained in 
poise and manner. She appears happy and con¬ 
tented, as if fate had placed her in the sphere 
for which she was born and that she had neither 
sorrow nor regret. His Excellency is the per¬ 
fection of distinction and manner. Between them 
there is shown from the beginning a thorough 
understanding, and a fine comradeship. He 
takes her cloak from her shoulders and hands it 
to the 1st Waiter. She sits near an open 
window, through which is seen a beautiful 
garden. The 1st Waiter offers the menu to His 
Excellency who declines it.) 

His Ex. Something very simple now. We are 
going to the motor parade and will have this room 
again on our return. (The Waiter bows. To 2nd 
Waiter) Some red roses and some cyclamen. (The 
2nd Waiter bows and exits. To 1st W aiter) Just 
bring an entree of lamb with wine sauce! (1st 
Waiter bows after each sentence) Then some 
tomatoes—fresh of course—then a cold pigeon served 
with oranges—and a bottle of Chatteau Lafette 82 . 




INNOCENT. 


8S 

If we need a sweet we will order one. (To 
Innocent) Does that meet with your approval? 

Innocent. Yes, dear. 

His Ex. Good. (To Waiter) That is all. (The 
waiter bows and exits) 

(Innocent rises and goes toward His Excellency.*) 

Innocent. I love to hear you order! You seem 
to know everything and how to do everything. 

His Ex. My dear child! 

Innocent. Tell me, when you spoke to me' the 
first time, how did you know it was my last franc 
that I had bet and lost? 

His Ex. Why have I lived! I knew it just as I 
knew that you would accept the five thousand francs 
I won on the bet I asked you to place for me! And 
though I am quite sure that you had never done such 
a thing before—permit me to tell you, my dear, that 
you took them like an artist. 

Innocent. I had never done it before. And yet, 
when I accepted the money from you, it seemed as 
though it were the most natural thing in the world 
to do and not in the least humiliating or degrading! 
I don’t think though that I could have taken it from 
any other man in the room. You had hardly seemed 
to notice me while they had all stared at me with 
appraising eyes. 

His Ex. To accept it was right. Fate has made 
you very charming, my dear. She has created you 
so that your nature demands an atmosphere of 
elegance. Without it you would be like a lamp that 
is extinguished. Fate has made you in fact a woman 
de luxe—therefore it is only proper that she should 
take care of you. 

Innocent. I’m glad you think that—and that 
she sent you to do it. 

His Ex. I am more than glad. 

Innocent. You are so restful; you give such 


INNOCENT. 


89 


security! When I am with you I know that no 
matter what arises, you will always be in control 
of the situation and that you will handle it success¬ 
fully without losing your poise or even raising your 
voice—in short, that you are the most dependable 
and most delightful person in the whole world. 

His Ex. You are very sweet to me to-night. 

Innocent. And yet I don’t know exactly how to 
regard you. 

His Ex. No? 

Innocent. No. Perhaps that is what fascinates 
me. 

His Ex. I will tell you—regard me as—life. 

Innocent. As life? 

His Ex. Yes, as the joyous philosophy of life 
which tells us to accept things as they are without 
asking why, and which teaches us to accept every¬ 
thing—even love and happiness—lightly. 

Innocent. I know r that you accept me—lightly. 

His Ex. I accept you as the greatest treasure that 
was ever entrusted to my keeping. 

Innocent. And yet you don’t love me—you 

never will love me. 

His Ex. You are mistaken dear—I do love you. 

Innocent. Oh, no. 

His Ex. I do love you—not tempestuously I will 
admit! But aren’t the placid blue waters and smiling 
skies of the Mediterranean preferable to the fogs and 
storms of the North Atlantic! Also there is much 
less chance of shipwreck, my dear. 

Innocent. Perhaps you are right. ( The 
Waiters bring in the flowers, hor douvres, etc. One 
waiter pours the wine) Only a little for me. ( To 
His Ex.) The spring air makes me passive and 
dreamy. 

His Ex. I understand. 


(The Waiters exeunt.) 


90 


INNOCENT. 


Innocent. I think of Mukden, where in the 
springtime, we floated on the water in Chinese junks. 
(There is a pause) Why don’t you ever ask me 
where I came from and who I am? 

His Ex. Why should I ? What possible good 
could the knowledge do! You are yourself and you 
are here with me! What else matters. 

Innocent. You don’t even know whether I have 
had one lover or many. Don’t you care? 

(His Excellency points to a jewel Innocent is 
wearing .) 

His Ex. Have you ever wondered how many 
women wore that jewel before I bought it and gave 
it to you? Of course not. Why should you? 
(There is a pause ) I happen to know some of its 
history! In its rough state it was dull and colorless 
and the man who dug it out of the earth threw it 
aside wihout a thought! Another man found it and, 
merely out of curiosity, took it to his home and 
polished it a little. Its color began to come and he 
showed it to a friend who promptly stole it and took 
it to a jeweler who lied about it and bought it for a 
fraction of its value. The jeweler polished it, cut it 
into an oblong shape, and sold it to a Maha Rajah who 
gave it to his favorite. This excited the jealousy of 
his queen, who had the slave killed and, so that her 
husband should not recognize the jewel, had it cut into 
another shape and placed in a different setting. Dur¬ 
ing the Indian mutiny the palace was looted and it 
fell into the hands of an officer who took it to Eng¬ 
land, had it recut and gave it to his daughter as a 
wedding present. The daughter’s husband, some 
time later, lost all his money and the jewel was sold. 
Since then it has adorned the hair of a duchess, the 
breast of a harlot and the finger of the wife of a 
South African millionaire, each of whom had it recut 
and re-set to suit her individual fancy. Finally it 


INNOCENT. 


91 


came into the possession of one who was an artist 
and understood, the result being what you wear—a 
flawless jewel, exquisitely cut and mounted! Does 
the fact that the other women have owned it and 
worn it interfere with your happiness in its posses¬ 
sion? Not in the slightest! All its adventures, all 
its vicissitudes have finally resulted in perfection— 
and that perfection is yours ! 

Innocent. You have a wonderful viewpoint and 
I’ve learned much from you already. Life with you 
has lifted up my head and enlarged my vision and 
now I see things from above instead of from below. 

His Ex. Again I am glad. Little life artist, your 
health and may your head always be exalted. 

Innocent. Thank you. ( They clink their glasses 
and drink) 

His Ex. After the motor parade we will come 
back here and then-! 

1st Waiter. ( Off stage ) No! No! I tell you. 
No one can go in there. 

Bela. ( Off stage) Just the same I’m going. I 
have the right. 

1st Waiter. (Off) You cannot go. 

2nd Waiter. (Off) No. 

Bela. (Off) I’m going I tell you. 

(His Excellency rings the bell. 1st Waiter enters.) 

His Ex. Who is that? 

1st Waiter. A—gentleman—who say he know 
Madame. 

His Ex. Let him come in. 

Innocent. I’m afraid. 

His Ex. Show the gentleman in. 

(1st Waiter exits.) 

Innocent. Who can it be? 

His Ex. There is no one who has the right to con¬ 
trol you? 



92 


INNOCENT. 


Innocent. No one! 

His Ex. Good! In any case it is better to see 
the gentleman! If there is a mistake it can easily 
be rectified; if there is anything to be adjusted it is 
much better to do it here than in public. 

(1st Waiter enters followed by Bela who is un¬ 
shaven and presents practically the same ap¬ 
pearance that he does in the prologue. There is 
a pause .) 

Innocent. Bela! 

His Ex. (To Waiter ) A chair for this gentle¬ 
man. Make the order for three. 

Bela. No! 

His Ex. Will you not do me the honor- 

Bela. You don’t know who I am. 

His Ex. It is enough that you are a friend of 
Madame. You w r ill dine with us? 

Bela. No. 

His Ex. I am sorry. (The waiter exits) You 
are nervous—upset—a glass of wine perhaps. 

Bela. Nothing. 

His Ex. You know this lady, of course. 

Bela. Know her ! Ha ! Know her ! 

His Ex. And there is probably something which 
you wish to talk over with her. Will you excuse me? 
Innocent. (I?i alarm) No! No! 

His Ex. There is nothing of which you need be 
afraid. (To Bela) You mean no harm to her, I am 
sure. 

Bela. No. Of course not. 

His Ex. I have your word? 

Bela. Yes. 

His Ex. That is enough. (To Innocent) 
There is no cause for alarm. Besides, I shall be 
waiting. (His Excellency exits) 

(There is a pause. Innocent partly regains her 
self-control.) 



INNOCENT. 


93 


Innocent. I’m sorry, Bela, more sorry than I 
can tell. ( There is a pause ) But why have you 
come? What do you expect? 

Bela. 1 came — I don’t know why — except that I 
couldn’t help it! And I expect—nothing! ( There 
is a pause ) Won’t you shake hands? ( She gives 
him her hand. He clasps it feverishly and kisses 
it) To touch your hand again is something—to hear 
your voice—to look into your eyes—to—to—! Oh, 
mv God, if you knew how I have suffered! If you 
•only knew! 

Innocent. My poor Bela! 

(There is a pause.) 

Bela. ^Vhen I awoke, after you—left—it was 
afternoon—and I thought you had gone to the races 
—so I wasn’t alarmed. But when evening came— 
when it grew dark—I couldn’t understand— and asked 
Juliska if you had given her no message. Then 
something prompted me to enquire if you had re¬ 
turned the dress and she said that you had paid for 
it—paid for it with money given you by Von Guggen. 
I told her she lied and ordered her from the house 
but she showed me the receipt. Then I began to get 
afraid. I had a feeling as if the earth were dropping 
from under me and I was going down! Down!! 
Down!!!! It was horrible! ( There is a pause) 
Even then I didn’t understand what had really hap¬ 
pened, but as night came on the possibility that you 
had gone began to dawn on me. I fought against 
it as a man fights against the thought that liq is 
going insane. That you would leave me without a 
line, without a word, seemed incredible—monstrous! 
I couldn’t believe it—I refused to believe it—and T 
went out into the streets, looking for you and ex¬ 
pecting to find you, perhaps hiding behind a tree or 
sitting at some* little table. I went about calling 
“ Innocent,*’ “ Innocent,” and when I saw a woman 


m 


INNOCENT*. 


ivho in the least resembled you, or who wore a hat 
or a dress like those I knew you had, I’d follow her 
and look into her face. Finally one woman screamed 
and I realized what I was doing l Even then I 
couldn’t help going on, so I wandered about under 
the trees, searching here and there until finally a 
gendarme took me in charge and I was sent to the 
hospital! And how I wished that I could die there . r 
(There is a pause. Innocent in pantomime expresses 
her sorrow ) But I didn’t die and after a while I 
was released and I realized that I must at least see 
you or I should really go mad, so I took what little 
money I had and went to Vienna, and Ostend and 
Paris. Finally I remembered how you loved beauti¬ 
ful things, and sunshine and flowers, and thought 
that you might be in Monte Carlo. By this time 
all my money was gone and I pawned what few 
things I owned and spent the last franc for a rail¬ 
road ticket there. All the time, for days, when I 
wasn’t begging my food or sleeping wherever I could, 
I haunted the Casino Gardens, and the entrance to 
the hotels and the restaurants. When I didn’t find 
you I made up my mind to come to Nice so I walked 
here and this afternoon I saw you pass by in a motor. 
I tried to call your name but couldn’t, but I knew 
you were here and that I should find you and I went 
about saying, “ Soon I shall be with her. Soon I 
shall speak to her.” About half an hour ago I 
caught sight of you again and guessing that you were 
going to dine, I tramped from restaurant to restau¬ 
rant till I saw you at that window. And now I am 
with you—I’ve found you again— We’re together— 
it’s really, really you! And we’re together—we’re 
together! 

(There is a pause.) 

Innocent. And what do you want me to do? 

Bela. Give me the chance to get back my pride, 


INNOCENT. 


95 


my strength, my self-respect. No man will ever love 
you as I do. Come back to me. ( There is a pause) 
Innocent—come back to me! 

Innocent. ( Very gently) And—what? (There 
is a pause) Well? ( There is a pause) Do you 
imagine I could be happy in the life you have to offer. 
(Pause) Do you? (There is a pause) Do you 
really think that I could—or should—surrender the 
comforts and luxuries to which I am already ac¬ 
customed and go with you to a life of poverty and 
drudgery? Look at me, Bela. Do you think that is 
what I am fitted for? (There is a pause) Of course 
you don’t! And suppose I did go with you, what 
would be the result? Unhappiness—misery—and 
another parting. 

Bela. No! No! 

Innocent. It would be inevitable—and you know 
it. (There is a pause) I am sorry for you—I pity 
you with all my heart—I’ll give you anything I have 
and do whatever you ask—except this. But I cant 
do this. I simply can’t. It’s impossible. 

Bela. You could if you loved me. (There is a 
pause) Don’t you love me? Don’t you? (There is 
a pause) Oh, say that you do, even thotigh we both 
know it’s a lie. 

Innocent. Bela! 

Bela. Tell me that you love me just as I love you 
and that you’ll go with me wherever I want to go! 
Lie to me! It will make me happy for a little while 

and then I’ll be ready-! (He takes a revolver 

from liis pocket) Ready to-! 

(Innocent screams.) 

Innocent. Bela! Bela!! 

(His Excellency enters quietly. There is a pause.) 

His Ex. And I trusted you. 




9(y INNOCENT. 

i 

Bela. It wasn’t for her. I was going to kill 
myself. 

His Ex. Not before a lady. It isn’t being done! 
(There is a pause ) Like anything else you possess, 
your life is your own to do with as you please, provid¬ 
ing that your actions injure no one else. But no 
gentleman deliberately involves the woman he loves 
in a public scandal. He removes it from her just 
as far as he possibly can. You see, my friend? 

Bela. Yes. I see. 

Innocent. Promise me you won’t do it. Promise 
me. 

Bela. You wouldn’t lie to me. Do you want 
me to lie to you? 

Innocent. I want you to promise. Will you? 

Bela. Yes. I promise. 

Innocent. And you’ll keep your word? 

Bela. I’ll keep my word. 

Innocent. Thank you. (Innocent turns away ) 

His Ex. (To Bela) Well done, my friend, well 
done. (Aloud—indicating table ) Will you not stay 
now that everything is settled? 

Bela. No. I must go. 

His Ex. Then, since you must, I know you will 
pardon my saying that it is rather evident that 
Fortune has not been kind to you of late, and you 

will excuse me if I suggest-! (His Excellency 

takes out his purse and offers it to Bela) 

Bela. Impossible. 

His Ex. Why? 

Bela. I’m not a beggar. 

His Ex. Neither is any other man who accepts a 
gift from a friend. 

Bela. But—money? 

His Ex. What difference does it make whether it 
is the money itself or the thing that it buys? (He 
takes Bela’s hand and puts the purse into it. This 
is the purse Bela has in the Prologue ) Permit me. 
(There is a pause ) You will need it. 



INNOCENT. 


97 


(There is a pause.) 

Bela. Very well. 

His Ex. I thank you. 

Bela. And now—good-bye. 

His Ex. Good-bye, my friend. 

Bela. Good-bye, Innocent. 

Innocent. You promised, remember. 

Bela. I’ll remember. 

Innocent. Then—good-bye. 

{He Jcisses her hand, looks into her face, and exits. 
Innocent cries. His Excellency comforts 
her. The first Waiter enters and goes to the 
table as if to clear it.) 

His Ex. You need not serve! Have my car 
ordered and be sure you save this room for us to¬ 
night. 

1st Waiter. Yes, your Excellency. (The Waiter 
exits) 


{There is a pause.) 

Innocent. I’m s& sorry for him. 

His Ex. So am I. (His Excellency gets 
Innocent’s bag which she has left near the window 
and takes it to her) Don’t cry dear. It can do no 
good. {He gives her the bag. She takes a handker¬ 
chief from it and wipes her eyes. He gets her cloak) 
And now, before the parade, we will go home for a 
little while. 

Innocent. Home! Why? 

His Ex. You will wish to bathe your eyes. {He 
puts the cloak about her) 

{They exeunt. There is a quick change to the scene 
of the Prologue and the Epilogue begins.) 


98 


INNOCENT. 


EPILOGUE. 

The Scene is the same as the Prologue. 

Horace is discovered reading the diary. 

{Reading) “ Read these few lines in a loud tone so 
that my dear heart may hear them, for already in 
the distance I see the shores of the River Styx, the 
banks of the Dalnys. If this were to fall into hands 
other than yours J should be thought weak and 
unmanly, but something tells me that no one will see 
it but you and with your nature I know you will 
understand. Fate was stronger than I was—that 
was all. It took me in its hands and crushed me and 
then everything vanished into the dark night. What 
has happened was predestined from the beginning 
and it was useless for me to struggle against it. At 
least, that is as I understand it, but I may be wrong. 
Who knows? Who knows? 


CURTAIN ON THE PLAY. 



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